


100%

by tihsho



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Bisexual Kevin Day, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, Kevin-centric, M/M, Pregnancy, coming to terms, except with the extra content maybe i cant keep up with that, i dont know how to write summaries im sorry for what youre about to read, i guess, not as a weird thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tihsho/pseuds/tihsho
Summary: Kevin has been working. Working on himself, that is. He's realizing, now that it's all over, that there are certain parts of himself that he's ignored, parts between the extremes of not feeling anything and feeling so strongly it consumes him. Kevin tries to find himself in the middle ground, even though the world doesn't seem to want to give him the respite he needs to do it.(An exploration of Kevin's character and his relationships with his friends, father, and sexuality)
Relationships: Kevin Day & Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day & David Wymack, Kevin Day/Jeremy Knox, Kevin Day/Thea Muldani, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 105
Kudos: 197





	1. Self-Help and Related Tortures

**Author's Note:**

> heya this is my first fic in this fandom and my second ever so please forgive me if it's terrible and please don't hesitate to tell me why! i would love any and all feedback because the whole reason im writing fanfiction is to practice and improve my writing.
> 
> this is going to have a couple more chapters. im not sure how long it's going to be but probably not over 20k. im going to /attempt/ to keep some kind of regular updating thing but i make no promises ive never done this before

So, Kevin… Kevin isn’t what you could call _low-key._  


Everything he feels, he feels strongly. Everything he says, he says with conviction. Everything he loves, well. Everything he loves becomes an addiction.  


After the Moriyamas, after all his secrets are out in the open, he’s trying to find some kind of sliding scale in his soul, some numbers between 0 and 100 that he can comfortably settle at. If Kevin isn’t feeling something 100%, with all his soul, this-is-the-hill-he-will-die-on, he doesn’t feel it. Fear, anger, even love. He’s been trained to push everything down, and he’s so good at it that only the strongest feelings can break through. Fear and anger have been strong a lot. He’s nervous and hot-tempered. But love? Love isn’t easy to fall into with only half of your soul.  


He’s been reading some self-help books, trying to puzzle out all these _things_ about himself that he doesn’t understand, all these things that are off or broken or extreme. He’s working. He’d like to be a better person, he thinks. Maybe without so much liquor.  


Love, love.  


He doesn’t really understand Wymack - his father, he should think, but it’s so hard to think of him as anything but simply Wymack - and his mother, or even Wymack and Abby. The details of his conception are thankfully a mystery to him, but still… in his mind, love requires complete honesty, complete trust, and the assurance that one of the involved parties would _tell_ the other if they happened to have his child, not like Wymack and his mother. In his mind, there’s no such thing as the ambiguity of Wymack and Abby, either, as going undeclared, unclear, not 100%.  


Thea, she’s his 100%. Maybe it’s not so obvious, because neither of them is used to love or to showing it partway. Maybe they seem cold, to outsiders, and that’s okay. Everything’s cold until they reach that 100%, alone together, Thea’s strong arms around him and her lungs breathing him in like he’s her only oxygen. It doesn’t have to be sex- sometimes it’s sex but sometimes it’s crying or raging or finally remembering it all, together, clinging to each other like rafts in a raging sea.  


She’s told him he’s hers, and he likes that. He likes to know. And he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of them, because he knows. He knows she’s not going anywhere. He knows they’re going to stick together and be there for each other like he knows he’s alive.  


That said. That said. There are numbers between 0 and 100 that are coming to light, after all this reading and rearranging and thinking, and he doesn’t- he doesn’t know what to do about them.  


Something Nicky says sticks in his mind. A conversation. He’s talking to Neil and Andrew in the locker room after practice about media presence- they’re making a huge mistake, he tells them, not bothering to hide their relationship. The press hasn’t caught on yet, because they aren’t exactly the type to do PDA, of course, but _still_. They need to take steps to make sure it doesn’t come out, because do they know what that’s going to mean for them in the world of professional exy, in the spotlight?  


And Nicky says, “Kevin, stop being a dick.” That’s not the thing that sticks.  


Kevin's frustrated, so he wheels on Nicky and snaps, “Look, all I’m trying to do is warn them about the media shitstorm this is going to cause, okay? I’m not saying they can’t be gay, although why anyone _would_ be in professional Exy is beyond me!”  


Nicky looks taken aback. “That’s not a choice, Kevin.”  


“I don’t know if-” Kevin stops, and his brain catches up with his mouth. That isn’t a great thing to say, huh. He’s starting to work on ‘articulating’ and ‘apologizing’, though, so he forces out, “That’s not what I mean.”  


“Sounds kind of like it is,” Neil says. “And I’m not even gay.”  


Kevin glares at him.  


“Look, it’s okay,” Nicky says diplomatically. “I mean, you should know better by now. But,” he tilts his head, “I mean, Andrew and Neil are gonna go professional one day, so I guess they bother you more than I do.”  


Kevin nods stiffly. Andrew rolls his eyes and resumes changing, detaching himself and Neil from the conversation and leaving Kevin to face Nicky alone.  


“If you don’t understand, you just have to think it through,” Nicky tells him patiently. Kevin doesn’t love this benevolent look on his face. “Like, if the situation was reversed, and the media was going to freak out if you were dating a woman, would you just date a man?”  


“Yeah,” Kevin says, obviously.  


Nicky blinks at him.  


“It’s kind of an obvious answer, in that scenario,” Kevin says, then thinks it over a bit. “Well. It might be different if I was with Thea.”  


Nicky furrows his brows. “I… I guess that’s my point.”  


Kevin weighs it in his head and half-nods. “I guess.”  


“I’m sort of hung up on that ‘yeah’, though.”  


Kevin shrugs. “I mean, you said the whole thing’s reversed, so it makes sense. Different parameters.”  


“I think that’s a very interesting thing for you to say, Kevin,” Nicky says. “You think love is a strategic choice.” And _that_ is the thing that sticks.  


Because then he thinks about it. And he wonders. He wonders about all those numbers between 0 and 100 that he hasn’t noticed.  


Because, well, is it _not_ something he can choose? Kevin can distinctly remember thinking about it. He can remember when he learned what _gay_ was, and how he was taught immediately afterwards that he was not allowed to look at boys that way. He can remember thinking _okay, then, I won’t_. And simply deciding. He’s done that for a lot of things, unquestioningly. He takes in and executes commands like a robot. This wasn’t different.  


See, but now he’s supposed to be deprogramming. Wymack certainly wants him to.  


So, he thinks about it a lot. And it’s probably not something he should think about, not a door he should risk opening. But if he doesn’t at least test the lock, he won’t know if it’s secure.  


Kevin is inputting his own commands.  


The group is going out to dinner after practice, an unexplained treat from Abby, who’s in a particularly glowing mood. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t do this in the middle of the season, especially not the day before a big game against the Trojans. Kevin’s past the point of tired, head spinning with plays and strategies and speculation about the way Knox is going to direct his own team, and Kevin’s trying not to hide it so much as he used to. His feet scrape against the pavement just slightly and sweat cools on the back of his neck. His posture, though, is as rigid as always. He’ll keel over before he lets a single vertebra even think about shifting out of alignment.  


So they’re walking down a street in town, passing all sorts of high-end clothing stores and restaurants with juice bars when Dan grabs Allison’s arm and whisper-shouts loud enough for everyone to hear, “Oh my god. Did you see that guy who just walked past us?”  


Every head turns. “What, is there something wrong?” Matt asks, worried.  


Dan laughs. “Christ, no. But, wow. He had the face of an angel and the body of a Greek god.”  


Most of the foxes’ attention drifts away, but Nicky snickers.  


“I’m,” Matt says, “I’m right here.”  


She playfully slaps his arm. “Oh, come on, babe. I’m just window shopping.”  


That’s an idea. That’s something.  


Kevin surreptitiously glances behind them. The guy is easy to spot, still relatively close, and he _is_ fit. But, well. But nothing. Kevin doesn’t really feel the need to feel anything about him.  


That’s a good sign.  


He keeps track of Dan and Allison’s attention as they walk. Occasionally, one of them will point something out. To his chagrin, it’s usually nothing, a nice display or an interesting storefront. The girls are not as boy-crazy as he’d like them to be. And the stores are all the same, fancy clothes and stick-thin mannequins. The fluorescents inside are starting to hurt his eyes.  


But then they come upon a sportswear store with its window display absolutely loaded with blown-up photographs of extremely fit models and a couple of relatively well-known athletes, probably paid through the nose for their endorsements. Most of the foxes at least spare the models a glance - excluding Neil and Andrew, who don’t react at all, whose disinterests are either total or well-practiced.  


Kevin watches the expressions of the other foxes. Kevin is learning to watch. Kevin is learning to window shop.  


But none of the models are really doing it for him, he realizes. Not even the sports stars, some of whom he vaguely recognizes but none that he knows. Sure, he can appreciate how much work must have gone into their impressive physiques, male or female, and he notes the skill and artistry required to take pictures worthy of an entire storefront - but, well, but nothing. There’s no spark of attraction, not that he notices. He doesn’t think it’s even that he’s not letting himself feel it. It just isn’t there.  


Which is a relief, because now he knows that even the fittest of men aren’t doing it for him. He can wipe his hands clean of this passing thought, this little curiosity. He’s straight as an arrow. A well-crafted, unwarped arrow. An arrow pointing toward women. Straight toward them.  


It’s a very satisfying conclusion.  


Then.  


“Hey, isn’t that Jeremy Knox?”  


Kevin looks up. He looks up to an eyefull of Jeremy Knox, captain of the Trojans, filling up almost half of the display window, gripping an exy racquet, clad in tight, designer athletic shorts and nothing else.  


And it’s not the surprise of seeing a familiar face that stops Kevin in his tracks, not at all. It’s not the lighting of the photo or the _artistry_ , though it would be an outright lie not to call this Jeremy Knox a work of art. It would be an outright lie to say that Kevin is noticing these details for pure, objective observation: not the delicate trails of sweat streaking down Knox’s strong exposed abdomen, nor his intense stare into the artistic middle distance as though he’s ready for a fight, nor his delicate but firm grip on the exy stick- which could be seen as a stand-in for a lot of things, if Kevin thinks about it, and _boy_ is he thinking about it. Knox looks like he’s just stepped off the court in this ad, but in a sort of stylized way, with all the intensity and work but none of the exhaustion or body odor. It makes Kevin want to go to the court and practice until he faints. Next time he sees Knox, he won’t be able to forget this photograph, so he’s going to have to work hard to impress the Trojan captain and measure up to the power he’s displaying in the picture. Or that Kevin already knows he has. This picture of Knox is affecting him so much more than any of the other photos on the display because Kevin _knows_ Knox and he knows how much work the man puts into his playing, his strength, and his image. This photo- it isn’t selling sex or comfy athletic wear to him. It’s selling Knox’s dedication and mindset and -  


“Kevin, are you okay?” Dan is looking back at him, concerned. He’s been standing still for too long, and he flushes when he realizes the group is now a few paces ahead of him.  


“Yeah,” he says, nodding with false confidence, “it’s Jeremy Knox, like you said.”  


“Kevin,” Nicky says slowly, “his face is in the photo.”  


Kevin nods brusquely and speeds to catch up to them. “Yeah. Exactly.”  


Nicky looks at him like he’s grown a second head, but the moment is quickly forgotten.  


Kevin doesn’t forget it, though. Later, when he’s the only one awake in his dorm, it churns in his head. What does it mean? Why did he feel like that?  


If he had to give it a number, he would give it a solid 67%.  


Which. Well, that’s unacceptable, isn’t it?  


It has to be a fluke, he tells himself. He has to test it.  


That’s what he tells himself when he looks up Knox’s complete photoshoot. When he follows some links to more, swimsuits and underwear brands- who knew Knox was a model? When the only light in the room comes from his computer screen. When his heart flutters with every click-  


He freezes and slams his laptop shut. What the hell? What the _hell_? He’s not gay. He does not feel anything for Jeremy Knox. He has a girlfriend, one he loves totally, completely. He has to play against the man tomorrow! And he has roommates, so.  


He rolls over in bed and closes his eyes, willing the confusion and guilt from his chest. He just won’t think about it. He just won’t. He has an answer now to the question he was asking, but he doesn’t have to accept it. Not at all.  


His sheets are rough and uncomfortably warm, but he pulls them to his shoulders anyway. He needs some kind of comfort. And this is the best he has.  


Naturally, he wakes up too early the next morning, drenched in sweat and a sour mood. His bags are already packed beside the bed, but somehow the thought of getting ready for the long bus ride ahead of him is still almost too much to stomach. He throws on some clothes and heads out to Abby’s place, where the bus waits and the foxes have decided to meet for a protein-rich breakfast that will only serve to make Kevin more nauseous. Not that he would ever consider skipping the most important meal of the day. His body is a machine.  


It could use a bit of straight gasoline, though.  


He’s the first one in the kitchen. Abby isn’t even there yet, having opened the door looking like she’s literally just woken up. Kevin beelines for the liquor cabinet and cracks open his drink of choice. He takes a swig of vodka directly from the bottle. If the others were here, he’d at least pour it into some orange juice, but they aren’t, and he needs this. He needs to clear his head. He’s justified.  


“Jesus, Kevin.”  


Kevin almost spits out his mouthful of vodka at the sound of Wymack’s voice behind him, but quickly recovers and swallows it down. “Coach,” he says.  


Wymack sighs, pulling out a chair at the table. “I thought you were excited to play against the Trojans today,” he says, running one callused hand over the back of his neck. “I was banking on you being in a good mood.” He eyes Kevin’s bottle, then holds out a hand.  


Kevin grunts and passes it to him.  


“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Wymack mutters, glaring at the bottle. “You’re a fucking mess.”  


Kevin raises an eyebrow. Wymack drinks.  


“You can tell me what’s bothering you, you know,” he says, passing the vodka back. “I sometimes attempt to help.”  


Kevin pauses. Wymack looks tired, his brows furrowed, the lines on his forehead more pronounced. Kevin sees echoes of himself in Wymack’s features, his dark eyes, the shade of skin, the set of his jaw. It makes him uncomfortable. It seems so obvious now.  


“It’s nothing,” Kevin says.  


Wymack studies him for another moment, then nods reluctantly. “Okay.” Almost as an afterthought, “Don’t let it mess up your game.”  


“I won’t.” There’s something uneasy about this. The mood. Wymack with that look on his face, with his hand on his neck. Self-soothing. Riko is- was- always better at reading people, but he taught Kevin how to pick out the most obvious signs of distress. Hiding thumbs. Rubbing necks.  


Kevin takes another drink and waits.  


Wymack lets out a sudden, violent sigh, and his hand drops to the table with a thud. He looks up, his eyes hooking Kevin’s, and he says, “Abby’s pregnant.”  


The vodka burns in Kevin's mouth, but his throat is locked and refuses to swallow.  


There’s an axis between Wymack’s eyes and Kevin’s - the same eyes - and the world is frozen around it.  


Then the front door bursts open.  


“Good morning everybody!” Nicky calls in a loud singsong, heading straight for the stove. “Y’all ready for some fuckin’ bacon?”  


Wymack’s face shutters, and his posture straightens. The axis breaks, but Kevin’s still standing on it, watching it crumble before him.  


“Shut _up_ ,” Aaron groans, heading straight to the table and flopping down. Andrew follows him and takes a seat on the opposite end, unphased by the sudden chaos their group has brought. Neil, though, stays in the entrance way, eyeing Kevin and Wymack with those infuriatingly piercing blue eyes of his like he can see straight through them.  


Kevin would curse Neil’s psychic abilities if he had any space in his mind to register that the other people are in the room. His focus is still locked on Wymack.  


“Why would you tell me that,” he forces out through his teeth, gaze hot enough to burn a hole in his coach’s skull. “Why the _fuck_ would you say that right now.”  


Nicky pauses at the stove and turns around, face falling. “Um, guys-?”  


“Kevin,” Wymack hisses, eyes wide. “Don’t-”  


“You know we have a game today, right? Don’t you?” Kevin can feel himself heating up, a star in his chest about to go supernova, pulling him inwards with crushing gravity. His tone rises toward madness. “Do you even know what’s been going on?”  


Wymack’s face is going slightly red, too. “You realize I asked, right?”  


Kevin slams the bottle down on the countertop, spilling a few drops onto his hand. “When?” he demands.  


“Jesus, do you really not notice how hard I’ve been trying with you?”  


Kevin inhales sharply, then spins and storms toward the door, shoving Neil out of the way. He has to get out, get some air, clear his head - he shouldn’t blow up like this - he should remove himself from the situation, like those self-help books have been telling him to -  


“And where the hell are you going now?” Wymack shouts.  


Kevin throws the door open. “If I stay here, I’m going to make some big _fucking mistakes_!”  


Kevin can’t bring himself to care about the chill drizzle of rain outside. He stomps to the porch stairs, then throws himself down onto them and puts his head in his hands with an angry sigh. He can practically feel the steam coming off of him, rising into wet air. He’s thinking, but not thinking. His gears are trying to turn, but they’ve just ended up grinding on each other.  


He knows he should be- something other than this. Not so fucking livid. Not such a terrible person. He knows his teammates will be happy, and they probably are now, asking dumb questions and teasing Wymack, _so I guess you two really are fucking, I thought Abby was too old for this_ , and on and on. Why does he feel so different? He shouldn’t always self-destruct like this. He doesn’t - he doesn’t even think of Wymack as his father, he knows that. He doesn’t need that kind of thing. He should be laughing along with his team, or at least standing in the background in reluctantly pleased silence.  


He just can’t make himself get up and go back in there.  


The door opens behind him. He doesn’t look up. He recognizes the cadence of the footsteps approaching him, the smell of whiskey and cigarettes and something solid, something warm.  


Andrew thuds down on the stair above him and lights a cigarette. He breathes smoke silently into the sky, his foot tapping beside where Kevin sits.  


Kevin lets it go on for a minute, feeling growing inside him, then finally looks up and grits out, “Who sent you out here to babysit me?”  


Andrew doesn’t answer, substituting another drag for words. He’s looking at Kevin, his hazel eyes unreadable, filled with familiar stone. He watches.  


After a long beat, Andrew says, “I see you’ve learned something from those books you’ve been reading.”  


“Oh?” Kevin growls.  


“I do prefer not being subjected to screaming matches before nine a.m.,” Andrew says neutrally, “in general.”  


Kevin’s mouth twists. “Are you proud?”  


Andrew’s silent.  


Kevin shifts, looking away, resting his chin in his hands. His spine is still curled inward, and he knows it’s bad posture, but he doesn’t sit up. He says nothing.  


Andrew’s foot continues tapping, minute by minute. It’s the only sound. _Tap, tap, tap, tap_. He doesn’t usually do that. The message is clear: I’m waiting. Spit it out.  


Kevin doesn’t resist Andrew’s demands, as a rule. He could ask anything. If he asks Kevin why he’s out here, why he’s upset, Kevin will answer. But he won’t. And that’s why he’s here.  


Kevin is suddenly angry at him. Burningly, blindingly angry. _What exactly are you waiting for? Why are you here?_ He doesn’t say it. Andrew is a wall. Everything Kevin throws at him will just bounce right back. He doesn’t want a wall. He wants to hurt someone, to cut deep, to push some of this mess inside him into someone else. To know he has the power to. To know.  


“Did you ever like me?” The question bursts out of him, breaking the air between them.  


The tapping stops. A moment passes.  


“No,” Andrew drawls, a beat too late for his detached tone to stick. “You’re infuriating. I have never willingly spent time in the same room as you. Next question.”  


“I’m serious.” Kevin scowls at his hands, tensed as though they’re trying to get a hold on the emptiness in front of him. “I mean, like…Not just... You’re gay. Did you?”  


Another moment draws out, cold and quiet and dark.  


“Kevin. Hm.” Andrew says finally. Kevin looks at him. “If you want someone to love you, you’re looking in the wrong place.”  


He puts out his cigarette on the stair and stands. Kevin stays. His mind is numb.  


Kevin’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at it. A text from Wymack: _That was not at all how I wanted that to go._  


“Are you coming inside?” Andrew asks him.  


“No.” Kevin locks his phone. “I’ll wait on the bus.”  


Thankfully, he’s able to pry open the doors to the vehicle. He takes a seat in the back and tries not to think about how pathetic and hateful he is. And how nobody wants him. And how he’ll never be good enough.  


He fills his head with Exy.  


His phone buzzes again. He doesn’t want to pick it up, but he does. He expects another text from Wymack, either telling him he’s a horrible person and a shame of a son or that Wymack’s sorry and won’t ever hurt him again. It’s neither. It’s from Thea.  


_Will be in SC next week on the fifth. Make plans?_  


Always right to the point. He loves that about her.  


Kevin closes his eyes, imagining her there, wrapping her strong arms around him. Holding him close. He imagines the smell of her, cedar and dark, and the quiet she brings to his head. He imagines a nice hotel room and finally doing some of the things they talk about late at night, when no one can hear them, and he imagines being surrounded by her and her safety and her understanding and her eyes just for him.  


It’s hard to convey all that in a text message.  


_Okay._ he sends back. _Hotel?_  


_Yes._  


He breathes slowly. A room just for her, just for him. It’s been far too long since he’s let himself breathe her in.  


_I will make a reservation.  
_

__

__

_Ok._  


If he can just make it through this next week, Thea will make everything okay. He can forget Wymack and he can forget Jeremy Knox and he can forget whatever else is on his mind. She’ll be there. That’s all he’ll need to think about.  


He watches the world outside, cars flashing by on the street, leaves rustling in the trees, tiny drops of rain speckling across the wet asphalt. Most of him is numb, but there’s a sufficient warmth deep down in his core.  


His mind is quieter by the time the rest of the team starts piling onto the bus. He avoids looking at any of them, especially Andrew, and most especially Wymack. He stares out the window, letting the ugly feelings simmer without bubbling over. Feelings of anger, embarrassment, resentment. Jealousy, no. He’s a grown man.  


Andrew taps his finger once against the back of Kevin’s seat, right by his neck, as he brushes by. It startles Kevin, just a little. He looks up, but Andrew isn’t seeming to pay him any mind at all as he slides into a seat toward the back beside Neil. Kevin isn’t used to much… acknowledgement, emotionally, from Andrew. Andrew would usually just let him sit and agonize over his own conversational ineptitude. It would be a sort of directly-indirect revenge. _Did you like me?_ definitely would deserve it. Kevin doesn’t know if he’s ever said anything so mortifying to Andrew before.  


But he’s doing a lot of things he’s never done before, and apparently so is Andrew.  


He doesn’t know what to read from that.  


Is Andrew - could Andrew be someone to talk to about all… this? Numbness and extremes and confusing emotions about men in athleisure ads?  


He certainly knows about all of those things.  


But. No. Kevin shakes his head, clearing the thought. He’s not the type to talk to people like that. He doubts Andrew is, either. Kevin, personally, would much rather read self-help books alone in the dark and memorize lists of _coping skills_ than admit any of this out loud. Especially not to Andrew. Who would understand. Who would have to understand, but who still seems just so far above it all.  


Kevin has _seen_ Andrew at his most vulnerable - he insisted on being there in the courtroom, during the trial, he saw the photographs and heard the stories that turned his stomach inside out - but he still can’t wrap his mind around the idea that Andrew could ever fall prey to the same weaknesses and doubts that cripple his own mind. The difference might be that Andrew had no choice but to be exposed, and this, going to him, asking for help, would be Kevin willingly putting himself on the line. Asking. And somehow that’s worse.  


To him.  


And he would have to admit to _maybe perhaps improbably_ looking at Jeremy Knox. And that is simply not going to happen, anyway.  


Kevin furrows his brows and closes his eyes, leaning back in a fruitless attempt to get comfortable and catch some sleep on the long bus ride. He isn’t successful, but thankfully the other foxes take the cue to leave him alone, or at least pick up on his sour mood. It’s long and boring without them, trapped in his own head. He tries not to think. As usual, he fails.  


He should’ve had more of that vodka.


	2. The Top Ten Habits of (Mentally) Healthy People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin's too vulnerable to too many people. He thinks some negative thoughts, tries some breathing exercises, and eats some whey. Most of this revolves around a bus.

The game goes… well.  


Kevin is off his own game. _Kevin_ goes terribly. And he’d say the game goes that way too, but somehow it doesn’t. He can’t deny cold hard numbers. And the numbers say they won.  


Kevin misses shots and loses focus and makes plays he wouldn’t dream of making if he was in the right state of mind. But now, maybe, the team’s success doesn’t solely rely on Kevin’s game. The team is much better than they were. They’ve got Neil, being Neil, and Andrew still not putting in 100% but keeping a baseline much higher than it used to be, and they’ve got everyone else actually caring and working together. And that’s all good.  


When the buzzer sounds, Kevin wonders if it means they don’t need him anymore.  


He’s too tired to wonder if anyone needs him. He’s tired down to the bone.  


And embarrassed.  


Mortally so.  


Jeremy Knox catches Kevin just as he’s heading toward the parking lot with a hand on his arm. Kevin tenses and flushes, not sure what he’s expecting, but all he gets is Jeremy’s usual cheerful voice saying, “Hey, Kevin! Glad I caught you!”  


Kevin’s brain is absolutely frozen with panic, but luckily his default in this situation is to shut down and not scream outwardly. His face stays blank, his scowl firmly in place, and he says, “What do you want.”  


This is physically paining him. The bus is in view, and so are some of his teammates through its windows- they aren’t looking at him, but they _could_ at any minute. And they would know instantly. He’s certain.  


Jeremy seems not to notice Kevin’s discomfort, or at least he’s unbothered. “Listen, I know this is short notice, but I kind of wanted to see if we could get dinner tonight?”  


_Error 404._  


“Our teams, that is.”  


Oh.  


“Like, look. We all know your team had a… a _really_ rough time last year. And, well, we wanted to show our support. I know it’s not much, but - I think we could be good friends, huh? So could you mention it to Wilds? I’d talk to her myself, but I know you better.” Jeremy’s face is so fucking radiant. It’s like a beam of _genuine and kind_ burning into Kevin’s soul, and his hand’s still on Kevin’s arm and that burns in a completely different way. But the guy’s face is just- it’s just so proportionate and happy. His eyes go up into these little half-moons when he smiles, it’s ridiculous. No grown man with a serious athlete's build should have any business looking so adorable and warm and _good._  


“Uh, yeah,” Kevin says, monotone. “I’ll ask them.”  


“Great!” Jeremy finally takes his hand off Kevin’s arm and pats him on the shoulder with it. “I have a place in mind already. Tell your coach to call me!”  


Kevin thinks he’s finally going to get a reprieve and that he can finally just get on his bus, but then the pressure of Jeremy’s touch is back _again_ on his shoulder.  


“Actually, I’m not sure he has my personal number. You mind if I give it to you?”  


“Sure.” Kevin wants to grow a shell on his back that he can just retract into. Better yet, he wants to curl up and die. Not only did he just make an utter fool of himself in front of the guy he’s been having disgusting gay thoughts about all week, but now the guy keeps _touching him and smiling at him_. He’s sure his embarrassment is radioactive by now.  


“Give me your hand,” Jeremy says, pulling a pen from his pocket. Kevin holds out his right, and Jeremy takes it. His fingers curl around Kevin’s wrist and the pen flicks across his skin. And somehow the edge of Jeremy’s chest is still brushing Kevin’s arm, so the sensory blast isn’t even contained to his hand.  


Jeremy finishes writing after a few seconds that feel like hours. He pulls away, finally breaking contact, and gives Kevin a toothy smile that has no place on such a defined face. “Thanks! Don’t forget to call me when you know!” He walks backward a few paces, giving a small wave, and then turns to jog away. Kevin watches him go, momentarily paralyzed. He decidedly does not look at the way Jeremy’s legs flex, just focusing on the back of his head. That doesn’t stop the blood rushing to his cheeks.  


He shakes his head and walks toward the bus, trying and failing to keep his mind blank. He can’t stomach this, not now. He - how can he be doing this, feeling these things? He’s seeing his girlfriend in a week, his girlfriend who he does love, desperately so - does some part of him think she’s not enough? Because if that’s true, he can’t live with himself. How he has Thea at all is beyond him. The thought that he doesn’t appreciate what he has is just appalling.  


The bus doors slide open for him and he climbs the few steps up, sure his scowl is broadcasting everything he feels to everyone in the vicinity. He keeps his eyes down as he walks down the aisle, feeling as though everyone here is staring at him, though he knows logically that’s not true. He can hear Allison and Renee engaged with each other as he passes, not paying him any mind. He doesn’t need to look up to know Andrew at least isn’t looking at him. Andrew doesn’t tend to give a shit, not outwardly. Kevin gives too many shits. Too many.  


Nicky notices him, though. “Hey, Debbie Downer,” he says, smiling impishly, his tone light, “what’s wrong with you? Didn’t go so well with your boycrush?”  


And that is so very _not_ what Kevin needs to hear. He presses down a furious shout of _I don’t have any boy crush!_ (or whatever the fuck that is) and settles for a snarl of “Fuck off.”  


Apparently that reaction is still disproportionate, and Nicky’s smile slides into a look of concern. “Seriously, are you okay?”  


Kevin ignores him and flops down into his seat.  


“Kevin?” Dan asks, her attention caught.  


Kevin stares at his half-translucent reflection in the mirror. His tattoo, the Queen, seems to mock him. He’s supposed to be powerful, dangerous, dead-set. All he’s shaping up to be is an asshole and a f-  


“Earth to Kevin,” Wymack says from the front. “You good?”  


The man’s voice is like a cheese grater on Kevin’s ears.  


“Christ,” he growls, “not _you._ ” The bus is quiet, and Kevin’s nightmare has been realized - all eyes are now on him, never in the way he wants them to be. He feels hunted. He needs to calm down, stop being such a mess. He throws his arms up and says, discordantly, “I’m tired. Anybody else ready to get back to the hotel and sleep?”  


Dan stares at him over the back of her seat, eyes wide like she’s looking at some kind of deranged animal. “Yeah, if you’re sure, Kevin…”  


“Oh, Jeremy Knox invited us to dinner tonight. His team.” Kevin just wants the eye off of himself. “He told me to tell you.”  


“Oh, that’s not gonna work,” Wymack says. “ _Someone_ kept harassing me about getting back by tomorrow and we’re already pushing three a.m. as it is.”  


“I have a _test,_ ” Aaron grumbles from the seat behind Kevin.  


“I’m not pointing fingers,” Wymack says, putting up his hands, “I’m just saying we have to get on the road. It’s gonna be Taco Bell for us tonight, fine diners. Plus, well, I think Kevin might benefit from a little time off.”  


“ _Don’t use me as an excuse,_ ” Kevin snaps.  


“Jesus. Calm down. Okay.” Wymack laughs uncomfortably. “Kevin is a machine with no wants, needs, or weaknesses. Whatever. Just tell Jeremy to take a rain check.”  


Kevin grumbles something like an affirmative and pulls out his phone. Focusing on it is an easy way to tune out the rest of the world. He opens up his contacts, creates a new one, and types in Jeremy Knox’s number from the clear writing on his hand. He saves the contact simply under “Knox” and makes a mental note to scrub the writing off his hand as soon as possible. And then he makes another mental note to berate himself later, because a month ago he would’ve been over the moon to have the number of Trojan Captain Jeremy Knox, excellent exy player, impressive athlete, role-model in terms of sportsmanship and attitude. Now that’s ruined.  


...or maybe Kevin just didn’t notice this problem until now.  


He’ll think about it when he tries to fall asleep later. It’ll keep him up for one, two hours, maybe.  


For now, he needs to perform Diplomacy.  


The bus rumbles to life beneath him.  


He knows he should probably call, but he’s too worked up to even think about that and there’s no way he’d let the rest of the team hear him talking to Jeremy, not after that awful display of his. He texts.  


_Hello, Jeremy. This is Kevin Day. I am texting because I brought up your dinner proposal to the team and it turns out we will be unable to make it work with our schedule at the moment. Can we take a rain check? Apologies._  


It’s only a few seconds before Jeremy responds. _Sure dude! It’s fine. We’re probably going to play you again before the championships if you guys keep up this streak. Keep us in mind when you’re planning!_  


Another text comes in immediately after that. _Oh, and… good game! :)_  


That little smiley face is staring directly into Kevin’s soul. Something churns in his gut. Something pushes him to do what he’d never usually do. He responds, _I don’t know about that. Your team and mine played very well. I personally think I was not at the level I should have been._  


He immediately regrets sending that. What is Knox, his therapist? Far too vulnerable, inappropriate, invasive. Nobody wants to listen to his self-doubt, especially not the captain of a rival team - that he just beat. Oh, god. He’s just implied that he can beat the Trojans when he’s not even playing his hardest. How could he say that? And he would never think that in a million years - the Trojans are the best team in the league by far and he wouldn’t dare think of himself as -  


His phone buzzes.  


_What? You were great. You’re always great!_  


Kevin’s fingers seem to move of their own accord. _I don’t know about that._  


This is...  


_Come on!_ ...too much.  


_you don’t have to boost my ego._ But he keeps pressing send.  


_I’m not. Legitimately Kevin! I am always so impressed with you. I know everybody probably tells you this but I think you’re one of the best athletes out there :D  
_

_Oh… thank you._ One more. _I actually feel that way about you._  


__

_:)))))_  


Kevin shuts off his phone and tosses it across the seat. He leans back, pressing his palms into his eyes. When he sits up, he sees Andrew looking at him over a couple rows of seats. Kevin quickly looks away. He doesn’t know what exactly he and Andrew are doing right now but it doesn’t feel great to him.  


He stands up, holding onto the back of his seat to keep his balance, and reaches up into the overhead compartment (fancy) to get his bag. He pulls it onto the seat beside him and rummages in it for a moment before finding a book. He opens it out over his lap with the cover down. It means he has to bend his neck at an odd angle, but at least the other foxes won’t be able to see he’s reading a book called _The Top Ten Habits of (Mentally) Healthy People_. He opens it up to his bookmark, a torn piece of tissue, and starts to read about mindfulness and breathing exercises. He could probably do some of that.  


When he’s finished with that section, he closes the book and looks back out the window. It’s dark out already, the last traces of sunset quickly fading from the horizon. The light from inside the bus makes his reflection more solid against the window. He feels more solid himself. His mind has stopped racing so quickly and so out of control. The ups and downs of it all have just left him tired.  


He starts counting as he breathes, trying to fall into a rhythm recommended by his book. _In, 1...2...3...4…, hold, 1...2...3...4…, out, 1...2...3...4…, hold, 1...2...3...4..._  


He studies his face in the window. He doesn’t look like a changed man. He looks like he always has, heavy, angry, incongruous. But… no, something has changed. Measurably.  


He reaches up to ghost his fingers along the Queen on his cheek. He’s marked. He’s different. Maybe not as different as he’d like to be, but… in transition, somehow. He thinks of a fledgeling bird. It goes from something small and helpless to something graceful and quick. In between it’s just so fucking ugly. But it’s going somewhere.  


He wants to be where he’s going. But he can’t for the life of him see where that is.  


_In, 1...2...3...4…, hold, 1...2...3...4…, out, 1...2...3...4…, hold, 1...2...3...4…_  


Maybe he’s just making all this up.  


He leans back his head and watches the world slide by through the window, darkness slowly seeping in, partly obscured by the translucent reflection of his own face. His eyes fall slowly shut.  


Through the cloudy, disjointed lense of the dream, Kevin gets the impression that he’s in a public restroom. He’s staring into a mirror above a sink connected to a dirty white wall. The Queen on his cheek is much larger than it is in real life, taking up more than half of his face, bleeding onto his forehead and over his eye. There’s more on his face, too, stuff that looks like weird makeup. His lips are painted black and his non-tattooed eye is shaded dark red. Huge golden hoops hang from his ears. He’s wearing a clean white suit with a red tie, contrasting heavily with the dingy bathroom around him.  


Someone touches his shoulder. He turns around. It’s Wymack. Behind his father, the other half of the bathroom has morphed into an extravagant ballroom with a carved dais in the center. A crowd of people stand, all dressed in vibrant colors, and they’ve parted in the middle to form a sort of aisle to the dais. Kevin looks at Wymack, who has this… proud expression on his face. Affectionate. Wymack pushes Kevin’s shoulder lightly with a small smile. _Go on,_ he says.  


Hesitantly at first, Kevin starts to walk through the sea of people. He knows they’re his friends and family, but he recognizes none of them. He’s a little confused, but it feels nice, being here. He has an expectation at the back of his mind that Thea’s going to appear soon, but he can’t see her anywhere.  


He steps up onto the dais, then turns around to face the crowd. They’re all looking at him, and all of them look so… so _warm,_ so proud. He smiles and raises his arms as if in triumph. He knows the crowd is clapping, even though their hands aren’t moving. He doesn’t know what he won or what he did, but that’s at the back of his mind. For now, he just basks in it - all of these people, smiling and applauding, looking at him and only him. Some faces solidify from the shifting, abstract crowd: Andrew and Neil and the rest of the foxes, Abby and Bee, Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau, and Wymack, standing in the back, face for once without some crease of worry. And Thea’s here too. She’s standing right behind him, he can feel her there. He looks over his shoulder to smile at her, ready to see her steady eyes gazing back - but the person behind him smiles cruelly, teeth like a shark’s: Riko Moriyama.  


Riko takes him by the shoulders and throws him back. The scene shifts around him, darkening, constricting. The crowd has changed, the colors fading from rainbow to black, a wall of faceless Ravens closing him in. He hits the floor with a thud. Details sharpen - Riko’s face, the room they’re in, Kevin’s own sensations. This isn’t a dream anymore. It’s a memory.  


Kevin knows what happens in dreams like this. He’s aware of himself suddenly, of where he is, of the things he’s going to relive. He can’t do it. He shouldn’t, even though some terrible part of him is whispering _but you deserve it, but you need it, but you want him back._  


Riko laughs.  


Kevin wakes up with a jolt, knocking his bag from the seat beside him and onto the floor. He looks around, bleary. It’s almost pitch black outside the windows. The bus is still on, engine rumbling, but stationary. The clock at the front of the bus says _2:15._ Most of the foxes are out cold, laying across seats or leaning their heads back at painful angles, but two people are moving at the front, disembarking from the bus: Andrew and Wymack.  


Kevin stands and stumbles over to them, still wrestling control of his body from the fog of sleep. Wymack looks up as he approaches.  


“Where’re you going?” Kevin mumbles.  


Wymack gestures through the open door toward the neon lights of a twenty-four-hour gas station store. Andrew’s already halfway across the parking lot. “I need to take a shit,” the coach says. “Wanna come with?”  


“Sure,” Kevin says, starting on the steps. “I could use a protein bar.” He considers. “And a bathroom break.”  


His body feels alien to him. He must’ve slept through dinner, which is absolutely insane of him.  


The fluorescent lights of the convenience store stab directly into the center of Kevin’s brain. He blinks rapidly, then presses his palms into his eyes again, letting out a quiet groan. He’s happy the convenience store is empty except for them and the high-looking cashier. Andrew ignores him completely, having beelined straight to the candy aisle, but Wymack pauses and waits with him in the door.  


“You okay?” he asks.  


“Fuck,” Kevin says eloquently. “Yeah, I woke up too suddenly.”  


“Did my terrible braking wake you?”  


“No. Nightmare.” Kevin shakes his head again to clear it, then squares his shoulders. “Ugh. I’m fine. Let’s find the bathroom.”  


The bathroom is a single stall at the end of a short hall behind the beer. The top of the door is stained, the result of what could be an improbable and unfortunate feat. The smell of old shit permeates the walls, as though the building knows what’s going to happen behind that door and has decided to give up on any possibility of a pleasant smell to save itself from disappointment down the road.  


Wymack tries the handle. It’s occupied.  


He huffs and leans against the wall to wait. Kevin leans back too, but not too close. Now almost fully awake, he looks around at the hall. Anywhere but Wymack.  


A couple minutes pass. “Jesus,” Wymack says, “what’s he doing in there?”  


Kevin grunts.  


There’s a rack of various magazines on the wall opposite them. Wymack pulls one out and starts flipping through it. It’s got a shot of rolling green mountains beneath a clear sky on the cover, the forests seeming to go on forever. _Wonder at the Natural Beauty of the North Carolina Mountains,_ the issue’s cover commands.  


Wymack stops on one page and looks it over, creasing his brows. “They’re talking about the Cherokee reservation here,” he says, tapping the page. “We’re part Cherokee, you know.”  


Kevin stills. “No, actually. I don’t know.”  


Wymack falters for a moment, but soldiers on. “My mom’s parents were both born in the tribe. She wasn’t really raised in it and so I didn’t get much, like, culture from it, but it’s not insignificant.” He gestures with the magazine. “We should go sometime, maybe. You and I. Connect with our roots.”  


Kevin scoffs. “Is this you reaching out?”  


Wymack scowls, looking like he’s about to snap, but then just sort of deflates. He blows a rush of air out through his nose. “Maybe, Kevin. Maybe it is.”  


“Well, save it,” Kevin growls, looking down. “You and I aren’t going to bond over ‘roots’ I just found out about two seconds ago.” His mouth twitches sardonically. “Save that for your next kid.”  


Wymack’s gaze snaps over to him. “Seriously, Kevin, what’s your damage?”  


“Oh, come on.” Kevin knows he’s talking a bit too loud for this little hallway, but he doesn’t care. “What’s _your_ damage. What, the others didn’t coo loudly enough over Abby’s gut for you? Nobody baked you a cake iced with, like, _congratulations for fucking!_ ”  


“Kevin, we haven’t told the other foxes.”  


“And I bet nobody - what?”  


Wymack’s eyes are locked on his. “The only people who know about this are you, me, and Abby. We haven’t even told her other kid.”  


Kevin blinks. “Oh,” he says.  


“Yeah, _oh,_ shithead,” Wymack says, looking away again. “Look, it’s still early on. We know this stuff can be - tricky. Especially at our age. And you know as well as I do it wasn’t planned.” He sighs, pausing for a moment before he goes on. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “Still, I mean. Something about it is so… exciting. Like, I’m getting a chance this time. I get a chance to not fuck it up from the get-go. And I don’t want to be fuckin’ sappy or anything, but. That’s kind of a rare thing for me.”  


Kevin swallows back something in his throat and determinedly does not look at his father.  


“Yeah. You know I don’t go in for that stuff, but I gotta say,” Wymack continues, “I kind of wanted you to be excited too.”  


Kevin’s voice takes a few seconds to work again, and even then it comes out too quiet, too ragged. “I’m sorry I’m not what you wanted,” he says.  


Wymack jerks. “What? Kevin -”  


Kevin pushes off the wall and shoves his hands up into his hair. His voice gets marginally stronger but his words are still buzzed with the ragged edges of his exhaustion. “No, really. I’m sorry. That was all so - rude of me. Uncalled for. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”  


“Kevin, that’s literally not what I said. You -”  


He wants to pace even though the space is far too small. “I’m just not good at this kind of stuff. I - I always mess it up. I should be better.”  


“Jesus, I’m not attacking your character here, okay?” Wymack says. “I just wanted to talk.”  


“I can’t talk. I’m too focused on my own shit. I’ve been a bad person to you and to Abby -“  


“You haven’t done shit to Abby and - and you’re not supposed to be a person to me anymore, Kevin, you’re supposed to be my son!”  


_“Well maybe I don’t know how to do that, Wymack!”_  


“Uhh, sirs.” Both of them freeze. Standing at the end of the hall is the cashier, holding a out a chain. Even in his hysterical state, Kevin can smell the marijuana radiating off this girl. “I thought you might, uh, want the bathroom key.”  


“Oh,” Wymack says, staring at her. “Oh, so. There’s no one in there, is there?”  


“Naw, man.” The girl jingles the key. “You gonna take this, or…?”  


“Right.” Wymack reaches out and snatches the key from her. “Thanks.”  


“Yeah, no problem, uh… sir.” The girl bobs her chin at them and backs away.  


Wymack looks back at Kevin. “Are we idiots?”  


Kevin grits his teeth. “You take it. I’m gonna get a fucking protein bar.”  


“Kevin- “ Wymack starts, but he sounds defeated even as he says it. Kevin’s already storming away.  


He somehow manages to find the protein bars through the haze blurring his vision. Sadly, he can also see Andrew standing there, looking at a couple bars that could easily pass for straight candy. Andrew looks up at him, and Kevin’s sure that everything is written plainly across his face as it always is. He’s probably redder and his eyebrows are probably doing that thing and he thinks he might have actual tears in his eyes - he’d never let them out, but they’re still there and still visible. As he reaches Andrew’s side he imagines everything Andrew might say to him. _What the hell happened to you? You look like shit. Are you crying? I heard you yelling at Wymack. That’s some really pathetic shit you just said. You must be mortified. Everybody could hear you._  


Andrew regards Kevin blankly and gestures to the display with the candy bar in his hand. “Look. They have that whey shit you like.”  


“Fuck,” Kevin says, the word wrenching out of his chest. “My life is a fucking mess.”  


Andrew leans down and picks up one of the bars he’d pointed to. Andrew holds it out to Kevin, then presses it into Kevin’s chest when he doesn’t take it. “Have some whey,” Andrew tells him.  


Kevin looks down at the bar. It’s not one of Andrew’s sugary monstrosities, but an organic, seven-ingredient thing with thirty grams of protein. It’s probably what he would’ve chosen himself. He wraps his hand around the bar. It feels sturdy in his grasp.  


He sighs. “I’ll have some whey.”  


“Best idea you’ve had all day,” Andrew says, retracting his hand. He shifts his own items in his arms and turns toward the till, then looks back just as Kevin is opening his mouth. “Careful. If you give me shit for buying any of this, I’ll talk to you about something meaningful.”  


Kevin closes his mouth.  


The corner of Andrew’s own mouth twitches. “Good boy,” he says.  


Kevin stays standing in front of the protein bars. He stares down at the green wrapping of the one in his hand. _Healthy food for healthy people!_ it says.  


Kevin doesn’t feel like a healthy person. He certainly doesn’t feel like a good one.  


_Shut up,_ he tells his head. He’ll have some whey.  


_In, 1...2...3...4…, hold, 1...2...3...4…, out, 1...2...3...4…, hold, 1...2...3...4…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! i said id get it done within a week of posting the first, so naturally i wrote this whole thing today to meet that deadline. it feels a little directionless to me and i think that's why. also, someone please tell me to stop using italics. im new to ao3 and im not sure if theres a better way than manually putting in the fucking html around every italics piece. it takes so long. i havent seen my family for days.
> 
> as always, any feedback is much appreciated!


	3. In the Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea's short visit gives Kevin some harder things to think about, but it also brings him a new sense of balance. More confident in who he needs to be, he has some necessary conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight content warning here for references to sex and some description of the lead up to it. nothing in detail but some things said/implied (chapter working title was "kevin gets pegged"). im keeping my current teen rating but if you think this is pushing that please let me know. rest assured i won't be putting anything explicit in this because sex terrifies me lmao

It’s all very stately. Dignified. Poised.  


He picks her up from the airport with the car she’s rented for the weekend. She rides shotgun, arm slung casually across the back of her seat. He doesn’t stare, not really, because he already has her memorized, every curve and line and angle of muscle, shape, and expression.  


“How have you been?” he asks, stopped at a red light.  


“Fine. Tired.” Thea’s eyes stay forward, watching the road ahead of them. Kevin does the same. He glances at her periodically, though, just to assure himself she’s there, only needing to see her solid presence in his periphery. He knows she’s doing the same thing and he times his glances to avoid eye contact or acknowledgement between them. This syncopation is well-practiced and unavoidable. It’s a rhythm that finally makes sense, two drummers tuned into each other’s beats. He doesn’t have this with anyone else, not anymore, and he knows that’s a good thing but something about this is so- familiar, safe. It’s posture. It fits.  


“Your flight?” he asks. With every second next to her, his heart expands by another millimeter. It’s a slow swell but soon it’ll be large enough to crush his lungs in his chest.  


A couple drops of rain tap against the windshield, the first sign that the sky is finally crumbling beneath the downpour it’s been holding back all day. The timing works, symbolically. The weight of a storm.  


“Fine. No turbulence. No loud kids.” Her tone is so short, but every word is like gold. That voice seeps into his ears, dark and molasses, stirring memories and emotions that aren’t nearly so solid. Something addictive, something old, something sturdy. “And how are you?”  


The rain has already picked up. Ahead of them, the light turns to green, color distorted by the rain and contrasted by the monochrome sky.  


“I’ll talk about it later,” Kevin says, pushing down on the gas. Thea nods, accepting this. She knows this isn’t the time for something personal, not yet. Still, he wants to tell her. Everything. He wants to hear her say it’s okay. But he’s so scared, too, so scared of the words and of the walls they’d have to break down.  


The hotel is nice- Thea’s paycheck leaves room for a few extravagances, though she rarely uses it. They walk into the lobby side by side, rigid and matching posture, and approach the desk. The tiny receptionist there doesn’t exactly shrink back from the two-person wall approaching her, but if she had it would’ve been understandable. Kevin and Thea radiate disinterest and short fuses, and of course it doesn’t help that they’re both over six foot and built like, well, professional athletes. Any consideration of other people’s perception, though, is for once far in the back of Kevin’s mind.  


Or, well, not in such a concrete sense. This whole thing, he knows, is because of other people and what they perceive. But it’s not specific to the people around them or even to what he and Thea feel now about what people see of them. It’s something more ingrained.  


They ride in the elevator, feet apart.  


They walk down the hall in single file.  


Every atom in Kevin’s body is straining, magnetized toward her.  


“You played a good game yesterday. I saw on TV,” he says neutrally, desperate for something to cut the tension.  


Thea _hmphs_ in acknowledgement.  


They reach the door. She slides the key into the handle. The little light goes green. She steps in and first pulls out the _Do Not Disturb_ sign to hang on the knob, then steps smoothly in. She holds the door for Kevin, who forces himself not to stumble. He spins to give the room a short glance once he’s in. Typical, neutral, green carpet and white starchy sheets. Dry air. There are paintings on the wall but he doesn’t have time to take them in before turning back to face Thea. He watches as she closes the door with just slightly more force than necessary.  


And finally the rest of the world is cut off.  


There’s a beat where they just… stare at each other. Kevin thinks the desperation finally shows on his face as he drinks her in, her presence, and feels her own stare just as heavily on himself. Her eyes burn.  


Then she’s surging forward to catch his shoulders and slam him into the wall, and his back hurts and the impact is loud but he just melts into it anyway, feeling his knees weaken and fail as her mouth crashes into his. He would fall but she holds him up, pinning him there, and he loves how she’s strong enough that he can collapse into her and not worry if she’ll let him fall. The kiss is messy and searing and too much for both of them but there’s no way either of them can escape the other, lost to the push and pull. Kevin’s hands find her broad shoulders to cling to and hers fist in his hair, her body holding him in place.  


_“Fuck,”_ she rasps between them, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”  


“God, Thea, you don’t even know.” He won’t tell it to her in words but he knows she can feel it- he’s determined to make her- in the bruising grip of his fingers and the desperation of his mouth.  


“Bed,” she growls, and they move together. She holds him to her in a vice grip even over the few feet of floor they need to cross, refusing to break the contact between their bodies, refusing to lose his touch. She herds him until the backs of his knees hit the bed and then downward, and she follows him to push him down, grinding him into the mattress. Kevin closes his eyes and revels in being held there, in her, in being surrounded on all sides and within. He pulls her down against him and she pushes harder, as though the two of them could break through the barriers of their own bodies and get somehow closer than they are with enough pressure.  


There’s something so safe and fitting about being pushed by her, some kind of space he always needs but never gets. She gives him permission in hushed growls that no one else has ever known he needs, _be loud, be good, be still._ He’s pliant and desperate and everything else he never lets himself be.  


The next morning, after, he finds himself curled at her side, one leg looped over hers and his face buried in her neck. His body’s leaden but comfortable and it feels like it fits, finally, like it’s _right_ to be here, like he was never made to be anywhere but tangled beside Thea. His eyes are closed, but he can feel her gazing at him with that half-lidded, warm expression that he loves, and one of her hands is tracing lightly over the back of his neck. The room doesn’t smell so stale and dry anymore. All he can smell is her. It makes him full and wholly here for the first time in a long time.  


_Tell her now,_ he thinks, but he frowns and pushes the thought, and the fear that accompanies it, down. He doesn’t want to ruin this. He sinks deeper against her.  


“I don’t want to get up,” she says a while later. “I want to stay here forever.”  


He hums into her neck.  


“I have to be back at the airport in three hours.” Her gentle fingers slow against his skin. “God. I… I miss you every day. I love you so much, Kevin. But I hate this- these stolen couple hours every few months. They’re the only time I feel real. It’s not the same over the phone or on Skype, we both know that. It’s not the same.”  


Kevin opens his eyes and raises his head slightly to look at her. Soft sunlight is streaming in through the gauzy hoten curtains, a streak of it lighting right across her face, hitting her eyes at an angle that makes them look like gold or warm honey. He likes to watch her when she thinks, to see the workings of her mind through the rare openness of her eyes. But there’s a doubt to it that puts him on edge, even now in the cocoon of this room.  


Thea blows out a long breath, eyes trained on the ceiling as though they can see through it to the morning sky. “Do you ever wonder if we’re good for each other, Kevin?” she asks softly. “If it helps?”  


He pushes himself up further, frown creasing across his brows. “No. What do you mean?”  


Her shoulders raise slightly and she pulls her hands away to move in front of her chest. “I mean… I mean you know how we are, Kevin. When we’re here, like this-” she gestures between them “-we’re perfect. We’re _everything._ But when we’re out in public, when we see each other outside of these hotel rooms…” She sags slightly and finally looks over to him, meeting his eyes with an unusually despondent look in her own. “When we’re not perfect, Kevin, we’re Ravens.”  


“We’re not,” he says immediately. “We’ve both been- we’ve both been working through that, right? I’ve changed, Thea. I’ve actually changed a lot.”  


“I know that, and so have I,” she says, sounding frustrated. “But I’ve changed around people that weren’t Ravens. You and I together… it’s so easy to fall into those old patterns. To be what we were. I know you know what I mean. You’ve changed and I’ve changed, but have we changed?”  


Kevin can’t keep the note of anxiety out of his voice. “Are you- is this- is this you leaving me?”  


He feels so much younger than her, then.  


Thea freezes and stares at him a moment. Then she reaches out to envelop him once again in her arms and pulls him close to her. “Never,” she whispers. “Never, never. I love you too much to leave you, Kevin, even if it hurts.”  


“I don’t want to hurt you, though,” he mumbles. “That’s my never.”  


“You weren’t the one that hurt me,” she tells him. “I know. I know. And I’m never going forgive them for making us into something we never should have been.” She takes a moment to press her face into his hair, then resurfaces and hums low in her chest. “Look, I’m so proud of how far we’ve come. I just think there’s so much less pain for us on the horizon if we work on this. Together.”  


Kevin nods.  


She shifts against him, sitting both of them up. “Come on,” she says, a fresh and determined note in her voice, “we need to get dressed.”  


He lets her push him toward the edge of the bed and stands, stretching his arms above his head. He moves to his suitcase and pulls out fresh clothes. Thea watches from the bed, and he doesn’t exactly make a show for her, but he’s acutely aware of her gaze following the bare lines of his back.  


He stands in front of the large mirror opposite the bed and starts to pull on his clothes. They’re nothing special, just his usual day-to-day stuff. Not uncomfortable but still fine for breaking out into unexpected athletics.  


He’s not even aware of his clothes until he feels Thea’s presence behind him and her hands find his shoulders. She wraps her arms tightly around his back and rests her head on his shoulder. He watches in the mirror as she presses a firm kiss to the junction of his neck.  


“You’re so fucking pretty,” she says, voice muffled against his skin. “These outfits of yours, they’re a damn shame.”  


He huffs indignantly. “What’s wrong with them? They’re comfortable.” He holds up an arm to show his sleeve. “What else am I supposed to wear?”  


“Preferably nothing,” she says, “but there are a lot of other things I’d settle for. Oh, I want to dress you up like a little doll. You know, I’ve never seen you in something that shows you off. Even at parties, we’re both in those damn Raven suits. Boring. You have a lot to show off and you never do.” Her teeth catch briefly on his skin. “I want to show you off.”  


“What do you want me in?” he asks, turning his head against hers.  


“Something pretty. Not so stoic. Tight, fitted. I always wanted to see you in some kind of lace.”  


“Lace?” he laughs, then realizes she’s serious. “Thea, in case you didn’t notice, I’m a professional athlete. What kind of image is that?”  


“You know who was concerned about image?” she asks. A beat of silence- they both know the answer. “Look, I wouldn’t force you.” Her voice goes quieter. “But I think you should try to get out of that comfort zone, huh?”  


He shrugs uncomfortably. “I guess.”  


“And besides,” she says, pitched lower, “don’t you want to look pretty for me?”  


“Um. In front of- people?”  


She presses deeper into his skin. “Didn’t I say I wanted to show you off?”  


He shivers.  


She starts to suck lightly up his neck. “Or we could wait,” she almost growls between kisses, “and I could dress you up just for me, when we’re alone. Put you in a pretty skirt and see how gorgeous you’ll look in it on your knees.”  


There’s something to think about at night.  


Kevin will need to get re-dressed later.  


They leave the hotel almost late, which is unheard of for them- for Ravens. And they leave holding hands, through the lobby and even out to the car. Their postures are still rigid and their eyes stay straight ahead. But once they’re in the car, Thea looks at him, and doesn’t glance away for the whole drive.

Once she’s gone, there’s an odd feeling in him. An emptiness at her absence, but also some kind of residual high. A warmth inside him, holding him up from the diaphragm. The rain has stopped but the sky is still gray and the colors of the world are stark, made all the more vivid by the faded world around them. His hands are secure on the steering wheel as he pulls into the rental and there isn’t any trace of nerves in him when he calls Wymack to pick him up, even though he knows his father will rib him for what he was doing all night. Kevin is content and settled in his skin.  


He does remember, though.  


_He didn’t tell her._  


He tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter. They’re working to improve together, they’re in it for the long haul. He would never need anybody else, no matter what gender.  


But it does matter. It matters to him. It matters to the puzzle pieces inside him that have never quite fit.  


And, of course, it matters to his career. Thea’s the person who will understand that most of all. She’ll weigh it the same way he does. And she’ll give him a straight answer, the only person who could. If she says bury it, he will. That doesn’t matter. What matters is telling her in the first place. Finally having someone to work through this with who wouldn’t judge him, who would listen, who would be 100% honest.  


He’s so fucking scared, though.  


The month moves along. Between practices, he finds little moments to himself. He reads a book on recovering from trauma in a relationship. He skypes Thea every couple days, neither of them talking about anything important but _talking_ nonetheless. He tries a couple scattered days completely sober, which is about as far from this ‘comfort zone’ of his as he can get, but it’s surprisingly manageable. He spends a late night clicking through articles and historical papers (something he does well anyway) and the next morning finally has a conversation with Wymack about their shared heritage and the lonely feeling of having no real connection to it. It isn’t everything, it isn’t complete honesty and it doesn’t cut deep into the emotions between them, but it’s something. 50%, maybe 60.  


“I was serious when I said I want to work on it together,” Wymack tells him. “Once the season’s over, why don’t we take a trip? There have to be, like, museums or something. Meet ‘n greets.”  


Kevin laughs. “I feel like that’s offensive somehow.”  


“Well, exactly, then!” Wymack says. “Let’s learn how to not be culturally insensitive assholes. Together.”  


Kevin doesn’t know if that’s all going to work out how Wymack plans. He doesn’t know if his father will want to take a trip so close to Abby’s due date. But it doesn’t have to be then. It can be years from now, even. It just has to be.  


The team picks up on his newfound spirits.  


“What’s with you?” Aaron demands of him on the bus to their next game. “Andrew just devoured half a king-sized Snickers right in front of you and you didn’t even blink.”  


“Thanks for pointing it out to him,” Neil says dryly, “in case he didn’t notice for once.”  


Andrew takes another massive bite of his candy, watching disinterestedly.  


“No, you know Kevin’s been on cloud nine lately,” Nicky says from the seat behind him, then waggles his eyebrows. “Since his little rendevous with a _certain someone._ ”  


“Seems like quite the boost from twenty minutes of robotic missionary,” Allison says from the front.  


Kevin goes red. “I- Excuse me!” he splutters. He wants to refute this somehow, but he absolutely does not want to give his teammates any more details about his sex life.  


Nicky crows with laughter. “I bet he critiques her form.” He puts on a mocking scowl. “Come on, Thea, tighten your core. If you don’t straighten your shoulders you’ll end up with sciatica.”  


Allison lets out an exaggerated moan. “God, baby, not _sciatica._ ”  


“Shut the fuck up,” Kevin groans. “My god.” He knows how they think he is, but still.  


“I’m just saying, Kevin, if you need some tips…”  


The conversation moves on, mercifully, but it does leave Kevin with a thought. Tips. He obviously doesn’t think about it the way Allison meant it, but it gets him thinking. It would be absolutely mortifying, but he has at his disposal some people who are actually in relationships- relationships not shaped by years of intense psychological conditioning. Why not ask how that works?  


After the game, they’re all tired to the bone but at some level euphoric from the intense game and the hard-fought win. Laughter and loud voices fill the bus for the first hour of the drive back, but once everything has settled down, Kevin moves to sit in the seat across from Nicky’s. Kevin motions Neil over too, and he actually comes, content to give Andrew some space while the goalie talks to his twin.  


“So,” Kevin says, feeling awkward, “I kind of wanted to talk to you both about something.”  


“Kevin, come on,” Nicky says. “We just won a game. Can you save the critique until tomorrow? At least until we get back home?”  


Kevin shakes his head. “I am going to talk to you about that, but not right now. I- well, uh... “ There’s no non-embarrassing way to say this, but he’s opening up, dammit, he has to do this. His face is red and his voice is low. “Thea and I want to work on- communication, or something. And, like, you’ve both been in pretty serious relationships for a while now. I was wondering-” he forces this out through his teeth “-if you had any advice.”  


They both stare at him.  


“Uh, what?” Nicky says, blinking rapidly.  


“I said-”  


“I know what you said. It’s just, like, what?” Nicky chuckles nervously. “You’re asking _us?_ ”  


“I mean. I guess it’s not that weird,” Neil says. “He wants to communicate. We communicate. Look, we’re communicating right now.” He looks over at Andrew and gives a small wave to get his attention. Andrew glances over, then rolls his eyes and looks away.  


“Neil, I don’t think Andrew has ever communicated in his life.”  


“Come on, I’m trying to be serious.”  


“So am I.” Nicky frowns. “I don’t get what the joke is here.”  


Kevin’s mouth twists. “Why would I be making a joke?”  


“You- I- I don’t know.” Nicky gestures between them, forcing a smile. “That’s what we do, you know? We joke around. Right. And- and I don’t get why you’d ask us two. I mean, Andrew and Neil don’t communicate like normal people. They talk in fucking Russian. And me and Eric. Well, you know.”  


“Know what? Did something happen?” Kevin leans forward in his seat. “You’ve been engaged for years, most of it long-distance. I figured you’d have to be good at communicating for that.”  


Nicky looks taken aback. “W-well,” he says uncomfortably, “you know, people don’t ask me for romantic advice.”  


“How’s that relevant.”  


Nicky’s face contorts. “I don’t know, man. It’s like, I get that it’s funny and I play it kind of funny- you know, me, being gay with this big strapping European guy. Like, it’s ridiculous, right? I’m in it so it’s not for me but I know how it is and how I am to the rest of you, so, uh, yeah.”  


Kevin feels his expression rearrange. “Oh.”  


“Yeah, it’s like- it’s good. It’s chill.”  


“Is this mostly because you’re gay?”  


Nicky laughs awkwardly. “Well, listen, Kevin, you’re a tolerant guy but you’ve made it clear you won’t be walking in a pride parade anytime soon.”  


Kevin hunches and looks down. “I just wanted to hear what you had to say.”  


Nicky stares at him. “Uh.”  


“Directness,” Neil says suddenly, jarring the mood. “You have to be direct. Say what you want and what you mean. No secrets.” He looks between Kevin and Nicky, who are both looking at him mutely, and raises his eyebrows. “Thoughts?”  


“Um, yeah, right,” Nicky says, shaking himself. “Yeah. I agree with all of that. If something’s bothering you, bring it up. Don’t wait for it to fester.” He seems to find his stride. “And that goes for positive things, too. Never hurts to hear what you’re doing right. Tell the other person you love them or you think they look nice that day or you miss them. Make them feel important if they are. Another part of that is consistency- regular communication. Make a date and keep it. Eric and I skype at least every other day around the same time. If something comes up, we talk about it. Don’t let that slip.” Nicky pauses for a breath. “You know what, Kevin?” he says with new resolution, “I have a lot to say. I’m going to talk your ear off about this.”  


Kevin lets a small smile creep onto his face. “That’s what I asked you for.”  


Nicky launches into a list of do’s and don’ts that’s apparently been trying to burst out of him for years. Neil stays quiet, but listens intently, and Kevin can see him processing what he’s heard and taking some of it to heart. Kevin does the same. He knows most of it already, having been with Thea so long himself, but it’s mostly good advice. Kevin wonders why people don’t often come to Nicky about romance, since he’s had the most successful relationship out of all of them.  


Eventually the conversation turns, but it stays alive for the rest of the trip home. When Nicky stands to move back toward the front of the bus, Kevin stands too. He reaches out and puts a hand on Nicky’s arm.  


“Hey,” he says, ignoring the shocked look in Nicky’s eyes, “thanks for the advice.”  


“N-no problem,” Nicky says, then shakes it off with a wink. “Goes without saying but I’m always ready to talk about my sexy foreign lover.”  


Kevin ignores that, nods, and lets Nicky go. That lighthearted tone is a defense, but Kevin thinks Nicky is genuinely pleased. And Kevin himself feels good. He feels good.  


It’s a confusing feeling.  


He watches the world race by through the window and thinks that maybe movement doesn’t have to mean motion sickness.  


He opens his phone and texts Thea.  


_Can you Skype soon?_  


Her response is almost immediate. _15 min. Just woke up._  


He smiles internally. She still takes religious naps even after escaping the offset sleep schedule of the Ravens.  


They get off the bus and break up to go to their dorms, most taking the stairs because they know Kevin will get on them if they don’t. Andrew takes the elevator. Kevin doesn’t know why, but he finds himself following the goalie, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the lift. Andrew briefly raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t seem to open himself to conversation at all. Kevin doesn’t know if Andrew assumes that they aren’t going to talk or if he’s just disinterested.  


The elevator is plain metal, dark flooring. No decoration. The ceiling is reflective, if sort of warped. A serviceable mirror. Kevin looks up and meets his own dark eyes in the gray metal. He’s not sure what he sees there.  


The doors slide closed.  


“I want to apologize,” Kevin blurts out. He’s almost surprised by this statement himself, but it’s true. He doesn’t know what he wants, but something feels tangled inside him and he does know he needs to fix it.  


Andrew looks at him, an amused but vaguely condescending expressing crossing his face. “Oh?”  


“I-yes.” Kevin bites the inside of his lip but holds Andrew’s gaze and his own posture. He has to be direct. “I want to apologize for- for what I’ve said to you and Neil. About your, uh, relationship and PR.”  


Andrew blinks. He doesn’t look surprised, per se, but Kevin doubts he’s ever outwardly looked surprised anyway. He sucks shortly on his front teeth, then crosses his arms and leans his head back on the metal wall. His eyes are half-lidded but his gaze is turned fully toward Kevin. “Okay.”  


“And on Abby’s porch. That one time.” Kevin falters. “It - I mean, it doesn’t matter, in the long run. It’s not my business.”  


“Mm.” His expression gives nothing away.  


Kevin takes a breath. “Look, what I’m trying to say is… whatever I’ve been to you, that or coach or pet project-”  


“Nuisance.”  


“- I’m your teammate, and I respect you.”  


The elevator dings as it reaches their floor. The doors shudder open.  


Andrew pushes off the wall. He smirks at Kevin over his shoulder. “Well, then, happy to have your support, teammate.”  


Kevin stands there for a moment, watching Andrew step out. He catches another glimpse of himself in the mirrored ceiling. Then he moves forward.  


“Wait,” he says, tailing into the hall after Andrew. “Wait, Andrew, pl- just- hold on.”  


Andrew stops with a put-upon sigh and turns around again. “Kevin, I do love our chats, but-”  


“You’re my friend. You’re the most important friend I’ve ever had.” The words rush out. Kevin faces Andrew directly, leaning toward him as if it will drive home his point, as if his eyes will grasp Andrew where his hands can’t. He tries to make this mean something, because it does, because he’s never said anything like this before and he needs it to mean something now. “I don’t want you to think I don’t- that I don’t trust you. I don’t control your life and I never want to and whatever you do about this, I- I trust you to make the right decisions.” He finally takes a breath. “And I’ll back you all the way.”  


He remembers everything Andrew’s done for him. Years of being his lifeline. And more- offering support, in his quiet way, offering sanctuary. He remembers the convenience store. Andrew, not asking, only being there.  


Words come into his head, words he knows Andrew too well to say. _I love you._ Not like he loves Thea, not a love he’d lose everything to keep. Maybe a number doesn’t encompass the nuance, but he still feels it deep down in his blood.  


He comes back to himself. He’s standing just slightly too close to Andrew, accentuating the difference in their heights, but Andrew doesn’t push him back. Instead he regards him, not with his usual stoniness but not with vulnerability, either. There’s no trace of any reciprocation, at least not of Kevin’s emotionality, in his face. No relief or affection or any final surfacing of a heretofore-hidden desperation to be loved. Andrews brows are slightly knit and the only emotion clearly visible on his face is adjacent to confusion.  


“Did something happen to you?” Andrew asks him, voice slightly low. “Is there something I need to know about?”  


Kevin lets his shoulders drop and his face relax to something almost pleasant. He shakes his head. “No. I’m okay.”  


Andrew nods. “You’re okay,” he repeats.  


They look at each other for another moment.  


“We sure are standing in a hallway,” Andrew says.  


“Yeah.”  


Another beat.  


“Well,” Andrew says, straightening, “good talk.” He reaches out and pats Kevin on the shoulder, perhaps a little roughly, and walks on a little way down the hall. Kevin blinks and watches him go into his dorm.  


He feels kind of shaken, but he doesn’t feel so horribly embarrassed as he usually would after such an outburst. His shoulder buzzes where Andrew patted him. He doesn’t recall Andrew touching him casually or without the specific intent to push him away before. Maybe he never has.  


Maybe it was a good talk. Maybe. At least it got a weight off his shoulders.  


He goes into his own dorm. It isn’t empty, so he gets his laptop and goes back downstairs. He leaves the building and walks along the sidewalk until he finds a bench. He sits, perching the laptop on his knees, and opens Skype. A crisp wind flows through the air, sending the leaves in front of Kevin into a miniature swirl. He watches them dance.  


Directness. Honesty.  


He presses call.  


That pit in his stomach. It isn’t gone. But he thinks maybe he can carry it for the next few minutes.  


Thea’s face fills his screen. Her eyes get just slightly lighter when she sees him. He takes a moment to study her, her strong brows, her soft lips, the dynamic shape of her cheeks. Her coiled hair fans loosely out from her head and she’s wearing a loose T-shirt, obviously having told the truth about just waking up.  


She’s so fucking beautiful.  


“Hi, Kevin,” she says, voice cracked slightly from sleep and Kevin’s shitty laptop speakers. “Did you want to talk about something?”  


“Hello. And yes, actually, I did.” He swallows down the lump in his throat. The words won’t come easily, but he’ll make them.  


In the silent space of his hesitation, Thea says, “You’re outside this time.”  


Despite himself, Kevin smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to start off with saying i am so overwhelmed by the positive comments ive been getting! i appreciate every single one. i usually have to click away after reading the comments because i cant handle how nice some of them are. if i havent responded to yours ive still probably read it but i have to interact with these comment in small doses or ill die.
> 
> im not so confident about the quality/pacing of this chapter but i had to get it done and posted. an apology: i wanted to post a chapter a week and im still going to try to do that but i was traveling for the holidays and i didn't have time. thanks for your patience
> 
> and once again if ive said anything inaccurate or if you see something i could improve on in my writing please leave a comment about it! i am still very inexperienced and i appreciate any feedback. i am especially shaky in this chapter because i have only ever been in one romantic relationship (radical) and still havent kissed her (less radical) so i may get some things wrong.
> 
> my notes get pretty rambly lmao sorry


	4. The Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The talk does not go as planned. Shaken up by Thea's new proposal, Kevin's nerves get the best of him again. He does some research and stumbles into some things that maybe he shouldn't (and maybe he should).

The breeze picks up, but not intolerably. The leaves of a tree nearby, growing from a tiny patch of fenced-off dirt in the center of the concrete sidewalk, rustle and fall. The sky is cloudy but bright. The sidewalk is as empty as a campus sidewalk can be, and even the occasional passerby seems to pay no attention to where Kevin sits on the bench with his laptop balanced on his knees, trying to figure out how to answer a question Thea has never thought to ask.  


There’s a slight reflection on the laptop’s screen, not quite bright enough for the outdoors. It overlays a part of Kevin’s face over Thea’s, a slight ghost of his Queen tattoo.  


He opens his mouth.  


She speaks before he has the chance to. “You know, I- I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something. Nothing bad.” She knows to reassure him before he jumps to anything.  


He’s thrown off anyway. He almost wants to ask if it can wait. There’s been so much buildup to this, and he’s ready- he’s ready, right? Maybe. “What is it?”  


She shifts, glancing aside. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I came to… see you.”  


He nods and rebalances his laptop, shifting into a steadier position. This feels important.  


“We’re going to get married someday,” she says, and he nods. They’ve talked about it occasionally, and he likes the commitment of that - the commitment to a life with Thea once they’re both in a place where they don’t have to travel so much, where they’re safe and secure.  


“Proposing over Skype?” he asks.  


She doesn’t laugh, but cracks a tiny smile. “No. Just reiterating. My point is we’re… we’re both serious about all of it. 100%, like you like to say. We’re serious about a whole life.”  


“Yeah.” It’s one thing that hasn’t changed.  


“So there’s no doubt there.”  


“Yeah.” He inclines his head, inviting her to continue, trying not to seem nervous. “Where is this going?” He hopes she gets to the point soon because his courage is fading fast.  


“I miss you,” she says. “I miss being close to you. I know that can’t happen for a while. But I miss being close to - to anyone.” She sighs. “This is hard.”  


“What are you trying to say?”  


“I’m trying to say - well. I’m trying to say that you’re everything I need and I would never do anything to lose you. But we’ve been together since the Ravens and - and I know you haven’t really been with other people, have you, Kevin?”  


The last of the brave feeling in him is snuffed out, drenched in cold water. “I- I thought we already talked about this,” he says. “Look, I- I’ve made steps, right? Look at us now.” He waves his hand between himself and the screen. “We’re talking, right?”  


“Yes. Yes. Stop. It’s okay. I’m with you.” She watches him steadily, waiting for him to come back down. “The problem isn’t you. There’s no problem. I just know that your experiences and my experiences have been so restricted by the Ravens and you’re, well, you’re younger than me and not to mention the fact that you grew up in it. It was always them. You never got a chance to just be. And I don’t want to be part of the reason why you still can’t.” She frowns. “We talked about branching out and moving on. Breaking out of comfort zones. Experiencing the world.”  


“But what does that have to do with… this?”  


“It’s about the rigidity that’s still part of this. The way we’re bound to fall into old patterns. You know about that.” Thea sighs. “I want to let you learn and grow. I want you to love me without desperation, not as an escape or as an answer.” She looks down. “And I miss you.”  


“I don’t get it.”  


“I want to change the rules,” she says, voice firming up. “It’s up to you. We can forget it if you want to. We’re going to keep this commitment and we’re going to stick to our plan, but, well, I’m suggesting… that in the years before that… “ She shakes her head. “Yeah, no dancing around it. I think we should fuck other people.”  


Kevin blinks. “Oh.”  


“Uh-huh.”  


He feels like he’s just had a bucket of ice water tipped over his head. “Took a while to get to that,” he comments, trying to buy himself time to process.  


It doesn’t work. “What are you thinking?”  


“I’m not thinking anything.” It’s honest.  


“There would be stipulations, of course,” Thea says. “I know this goes against all the shit I just said about experiencing new relationships, but I couldn’t do an emotional thing with anyone else.”  


“Yeah. Okay. Me too.”  


“What do you think?”  


“I mean.”  


“You can say no.”  


Kevin shakes his head. “You have some good points,” he says, tone tensely neutral.  


“Okay.”  


“So. I guess. Okay.”  


“Really?”  


“Yeah.” He puts the laptop down on the bench beside him and turns sideways to lean on the armrest.  


Thea waits a moment, watching him. “Are you mad?”  


“No.” He crosses his arms.  


“Okay.” She keeps staring at his face. “You can say no. I didn’t want to blindside you.”  


He almost laughs. He doesn’t.  


“You can say no,” she repeats. “This shouldn’t be a point of contention.”  


“I said okay, okay?”  


“Don’t be upset. I love you.” She bites her lip. “But if you… mean it. You can tell me anytime if you want to revisit this. Should be for both of us.” She chuckles humorlessly. “Would now be a bad time to ask what you wanted to tell me?”  


“Yeah,” Kevin says. He couldn’t possibly. The outside. It was a grand concept. Now it’s just cold.  


He hates these cycles. He’s finally ready to change, and then every time he’s knocked back down. He’s always on the cusp of some big personal revelation, and then he’s taught again that he isn’t that person, that things won’t go according to plan.  


Nothing Thea has said isn’t according to plan. None of it, he knows, would hurt him or hurt their relationship, and part of him thinks it’s a good idea for exactly the reasons she gave, but… he can’t just have, like, a month, can he? There’s always some new piece added to the pile and he never has time to actually fit them together.  


The animal part of his brain is screaming _changeisbadchangeisbad._  


“Do you want to keep talking?” Thea asks.  


“Not now.”  


“Call me again tomorrow,” she says, with a note of despondency. “Somewhere private.”  


Somewhere private. As before.  


Kevin closes the laptop.  


Fuck. Fuck that. This whole thing is a sign. A sign he should never tell her what he was going to tell her. Fuck.  


Like, what’s he supposed to take away from this? He’s not enough for her. He’ll never be enough. He-  


He’s psyching himself out. He needs a moment.  


One of those books on anger management told him _distance yourself from the situation. Take time to cool down, and reconsider once you’re in a better place to do so. It’s probably not as bad as you think._  


He lets out a breath, leaning back, putting his hands behind his head. He waits for his thoughts to settle. It takes longer than it should.  


This is not a terrible concept. It’s a change. It’s just a change he didn’t plan on.  


Everything is still okay. The endgame is still okay. Thea is okay, he’s okay. He’s alive.  


He will call her tomorrow.  


He will pick up this laptop and go up to his dorm.  


He will table the other thing for now.  


Back in his room, he reopens his laptop. He sits against his wall and angles his screen so nobody else can possibly see it, even though nobody is probably looking. He opens Google and watches the little line bounce on the search bar, remembering a phrase Nicky has said before.  


He wants to search _how to come out,_ but even that- that’s admitting something, again. To the Google search bar. Nobody will see that and nobody will judge him, but. He can’t.  


Maybe he wasn’t exactly ready to tell Thea. If he can’t even tell his keyboard and his search bar.  


He types _what is coming out._ That seems much more in character. In case anyone ever takes his laptop and looks through his web history, trying to figure out if he’s gay. Rational fears.  


He hits enter.  


Lines of websites fill his screen. He clicks Wikipedia. He reads down a little. He clicks another link, another term. Another. Another.  


There is a lot more to this than he thought. A lot of words. A lot he doesn’t understand. He wonders what he was going to say to Thea. What he was about to define himself as.  


He clicks _bisexual._  


He makes his way to a quiz website. Most of them look like they were made by insecure middle schoolers. He takes one. _Am I bi?!?!_ It doesn’t help. The questions seem to want him to already know what his result will be. That’s not how fucking tests work.  


He clears his search history. He closes the browser.  


Immediately opens it again.  


_exy lgbt_ he types.  


There are a couple articles. A kid on a high school team is campaigning about discrimination in sports. A professional player from Tennesee’s team said something homophobic on Twitter.  


Another article’s introduction says _Even as a rare co-ed major sport, Exy doesn’t break the norm with LGBT acceptance. While rumors run rampant, especially concerning professional female players (EDIT: and, more recently, a couple of men in the college level), not a single professional player has come out as LGBT, and the most any college stars have done is neglect to refute certain rumors._  


Kevin frowns when he reads the edit. _gay college exy,_ he searches, then tries to rephrase it to minimize the porn.  


There’s pretty much nothing there pertaining to him, which is relieving. A couple more criticisms of the lack of representation (which is kind of annoying to Kevin, honestly, because the reason there isn’t any is because these same news sites would tear it to pieces). He includes his own name. No articles or anything, nothing from any news sites, mentioning him.  


One Twitter user says _watching exy w my dad maybe he thinks im straight now but im just staring at kevin days ass._  


Kevin’s brain doesn’t really have a response for that.  


He’s on Twitter now. He’s not exactly sure how it works, since he never actually looks at it longer than he has to, but he manages to figure out a search and trudges through the site.  


Some of what he finds is about him, but it’s mostly… well, gay people thinking about him, not people thinking he’s gay. A couple of tweets seem to imply things about him and Riko. And he- he hates that, a lot. That people think that. They’re few and far between. But they’re there.  


He grits his teeth and tells himself he knows unequivocally that they don’t matter, that they’re wrong.  


Most of what he finds is not about him, and some of it is… worrying. People, he knows, like to speculate. They like to speculate about a few people in particular. They like to speculate about Alvarez, about Knox, about Thea, actually, which Kevin has heard her rant about before for long enough that he knows to take any of this with a grain of salt. They don’t even seem to have any ideas about Nicky, which is ridiculous. But the worrying part is that they have ideas about Andrew.  


Sports magazines talk about his skill. Some teen magazines have decided he’s a bad boy. None of them have any idea. But there’s a small corner of the internet where it seems to be accepted fact that he’s gay.  


No real coverage. But there’s an audience, certainly. There are a couple jokes about it. Someone on a different website down this rabbit hole has a sports blog with a header proclaiming _Andrew Minyard is Gay._  


How the hell…?  


Kevin didn’t fucking know about that until, like, a couple months ago. Andrew’s a fucking brick wall. How could anyone get a read on… that? Is it supposed to be a joke?  


Kevin wracks his brain. Where could this have come from? Did Andrew say anything before he came to Palmetto? How…  


He searches further. Years of trying to find obscure research papers have given him the ability and patience to find, usually, what he’s looking for.  


This seems to have begun right around the time Andrew started to appear in interviews after joining the team. Kevin treks through some archives and follows a few links finds himself staring at an archived post on an older social media site, looking at a page by a guy with honestly frightening hair and eyeliner. The page was deactivated, it seems, following a storm of drama that stemmed from one precise post: _omfg.. i was just watching kathy ferdinand and minyard was on and that was the first time i saw him upclose….. he changed his last name but i stg hes the same andrew that blew me in juvie o_o._  


Most of the responses to that are disbelieving, calling the guy a liar or delusional. And Kevin wants to believe he is (and that Andrew would never do anything with a guy who wears that much fucking eyeliner), but the timing checks out. A few people do believe him, one of them even compiling some kind of fact-checked timeline to prove their point. That’s a terrifying level of investment in Andrew’s life. And the idea has a small but persistent foothold.  


This is… bad. Really bad.  


He picks up his phone and opens his messages. He texts Andrew.  


_The internet knows you’re gay!_  


Andrew takes a frustratingly long time to respond, as usual, but right now frustratingly long just means a few minutes. A few minutes of Kevin diving deeper and deeper into this intensely troubling section of the Internet.  


Andrew texts back, _oh boy!_  


_I’m serious,_ Kevin says, wishing he could scowl over text. _It started with this post._ He attaches the link.  


A couple minutes pass. Kevin’s tension grows, nerves balling up inside him. The sheets beneath him are too hot, too itchy. He gets up and starts to pace. What’s going to happen? He needs a game plan, a way to push this down - a way to keep it from coming back and hurting Andrew. He’s about to follow up when his phone buzzes with Andrew’s response. Simply, _eyeliner._  


_What are you going to do?_ Kevin asks, making a few typos with his taut fingers that he has to painstakingly correct. _A few people believe him._  


_huh,_ Andrew responds.  


Kevin drops to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up and typing furiously. _If we don’t do something about it, they’ll just keep asking the question. Eventually it could gain traction or even be picked up by a real news outlet!_  


_ok_ Andrew responds. _ill do something about it_  


Kevin blinks at that, then types again. _What?  
_

_Andrew, what are you going to do?  
_

_Andrew?  
_

_??_  


Fifteen minutes later and there’s still no response. Kevin throws his phone back onto the bed. Well, at least Andrew seems to agree with him on this. He climbs back up to his laptop and balances it across his knees. One tab’s still open to Twitter, on one of the speculative pages about Andrew. They’ve just tweeted, _OMG IS THIS FUCKIGN REAL GKHFGURUHLK._  


Huh?  


Kevin shakes it off and logs into his own account, thinking that he could take this time to tweet something out about the upcoming rematch against the Trojans for semifinals. But then he looks at his notifications. They’re blowing up.  


He looks at his feed. He looks at Andrew’s latest tweet.  


It’s a retweet from an official account for a magazine, Girls List. One of those baity teen things. _25 Famous Bad Boys_ says the original post, a screenshot of an article- a “listicle”, Kevin thinks they’re called. _Ladies, how many of you love a sportsman? Try your luck with Andrew Minyard, up-and-coming Exy goalie and resident bad boy! Let’s hope his height is the ONLY thing pint-sized about him!_  


Andrew’s retweet is just the word _gay._  


Oh god. Oh god.  


Kevin’s going to die.  


No, he’s not going to die.  


He is.  


Why is he so upset? It’s not him.  


Oh god.  


He’s going to breathe. _1...2....3...4…_  


Kevin said he’d be behind Andrew, like, half an hour ago.  


Oh god.  


Andrew does not do things he doesn’t want to do. Andrew does not do things he hasn’t fully considered and judged. Andrew did this.  


Okay, okay. Kevin’s not going to freak out.  


His phone chimes. Nicky. _dude r u freaking out rn????_  


What the fuck. This is… stupid. Why did Andrew do that? Why did he do it like that! That was- the worst. This is the worst. Does he know what he’s doing?  


Yes, Kevin knows that. Andrew always knows what he’s doing.  


Kevin breathes. He opens his phone.  


_I’m okay,_ he texts Nicky.  


He flips to his chat with Andrew and looks at what he’s said. His fingers hover over his phone screen.  


_Okay,_ he texts Andrew. Okay.  


He finally closes his laptop. He sits in bed.  


Another text. It’s not from Andrew. It’s Thea. _Andrew Minyard is a strange person._  


His nerves jump again. _Yeah,_ he sends back.  


_Brave, though,_ she responds.  


_Yeah._ He guesses.  


The next time he sees Andrew, neither of them bring it up. He knows the other foxes, or at least Nicky, must have tried to talk to Andrew about it, but he’s 100% certain that any discussion was characteristically and coldly shut down. Except with Neil, of course. But Neil won’t talk.  


The press won’t leave Andrew alone about it, but Andrew deals with them the way he always does - rudeness and refusal. He takes no opportunity to deny what he said, even when asked point-blank if it was a joke. “It was obviously a joke,” he says, “still gay.”  


Kevin doesn’t acknowledge any of the questions he gets about it. He goes with broad statements about the merits of diversity and the bonds of teamhood. He doesn’t think Andrew exactly appreciates it, but he doesn’t- he doesn’t actually know what to do.  


People stop asking him about it.  


Before he knows it, it’s game time again. A rematch with the Trojans. Wymack tells him that he’s scheduled out a dinner after the game in advance, and Kevin isn’t exactly sure if he’s glad about that or… what. He hasn’t thought about his conversation with Thea since it happened. They did talk more about it, and he was essentially okay with it after another seven assurances that Thea wouldn’t leave him for anyone else. He hasn’t really thought about it for himself, though, because there still aren’t many cases where he thinks it’ll apply. Jeremy Knox, that’s an exception. That’s scary to think about. Right before seeing Knox, he’s forced to think about it.  


During the game, at least, he can push it from his mind. It’s a hard enough fight to keep his mind wholly occupied. The foxes lose, but it’s close and they still have enough points to scrape onward. The loss doesn’t feel good, though. Especially not if Kevin thinks about omens.  


They end up mingling around in one of the conference rooms of the hotel the Trojans are staying in, a buffet set up with meal plan-friendly foods. Kevin tries to stick by Andrew until Andrew drifts too close to Jean, and then Kevin’s on his own. He has a moment of eye contact with Jean, and that’s enough for now. He can work on that particular strain later. Too much on his plate now. And he doesn’t like the sight of the number on Jean’s cheek, uncovered, pristine. He doesn’t like that at all.  


He sips quietly on champagne and drifts toward the corner of the room.  


“Hiding?” someone asks beside him. Kevin jumps slightly and turns to see, to his dread?, Jeremy Knox, holding a plate of jumbo shrimp.  


“Um, no,” he says, a little flustered.  


Jeremy laughs. “Well, then, I won’t accuse you of avoiding the person who put this whole thing together.” His mischievous smile widens when he sees Kevin’s expression. “What? Caught in the act?”  


“I wasn’t avoiding you.”  


Jeremy smiles lightheartedly. “Ah, it’s fine. Hey, now we’re even, though. You’ll get us next time.”  


Kevin blinks. “You- you think I’m jealous?” He coughs. “No way.”  


Jeremy raises his eyebrows.  


“I’m not a sore loser,” Kevin says. The idea that Jeremy would think that of him is just- it’s just appalling. “You’re a great team. I’m honestly amazed that the foxes did as well as we did against you.”  


Jeremy puts up his hands. “Okay, okay. So there’s another reason.” He grins. “I’ll puzzle it out of you eventually.”  


Kevin sincerely hopes he doesn’t. He wracks his brain for a change of subject. “So you’re majoring in health science, right?”  


“Oh, I know. Surprise, surprise,” Jeremy says sarcastically. “I am working on a philosophy minor. That’s at least kind of interesting.”  


“I actually didn’t know that,” Kevin says, forgetting himself for a moment. “It actually is interesting!”  


“History, right?” Jeremy asks him. “Yeah, there’s a big history component in there. Both subjects focus a lot on old white dudes, no offense. Philosophy just has a lot more hypotheticals.”  


“What I really like is the connections between them,” Kevin says, gesturing tightly with his champagne glass. “Like, how you can see how certain ideas influenced the real future of the world. Some of those ancient Greek philosophers affected the actions of people thousands of years later- I mean, that was the whole Renaissance!- and they’re still doing that today.” He pauses and looks down, aware himself. “Uh, so I just think it’s neat.”  


Jeremy doesn’t seem annoyed, though. In fact, he’s smiling. “I didn’t know you were so passionate about it.”  


Kevin flushes a little. “I guess.”  


Jeremy watches him for another moment, then glances away. “I’m glad I caught you tonight,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you.”  


Kevin frowns, looking up from his champagne. “Oh? What about?”  


Jeremy shrugs. “Oh, nothing important. I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about you since we texted after the last game.”  


“Uh, what?”  


“You know, I thought what you said then was pretty interesting.”  


Kevin wracks his brain. “What did I say?” He remembers being embarrassed.  


“Well, it wasn’t exactly what you said,” Jeremy says, gesturing with the tail of his finished shrimp. “It was more of the vibe. Not exactly the proud new king of exy. Not humble, though. Like you really honestly thought you- I don’t know, didn’t do well. Very unexpected. It made me think.”  


“I’m not king,” Kevin says automatically. He gestures to his tattoo. “I wanted something different.”  


Jeremy studies him, face unreadable. “I think that’s very interesting too.” His eyes are searching, deeper than Kevin’s seen them before. “I think you’re even more interesting than I give you credit for, Kevin Day.”  


Kevin is aware of the difference between them. He’s looking down at Jeremy, feeling suddenly too large and too clumsy. He wants to back away from this energy that’s formed between them, from whatever Jeremy sees. He’s simultaneously embarrassed and afraid, embarrassed of the things he’s thought before and afraid that Jeremy can somehow see them in his eyes. He wants to say _you can’t know me_ but something about that reads like a lie.  


Thankfully, Jeremy breaks eye contact first, making a half-turn away to return to studying the room. He watches the shifting crowd with a deceptive lightness, appearing to see it as only a mass of movement even though he must know every face and every name. “Well, to be fair, that’s probably true about a lot of people here. I like to think I’m a mindful kind of person, but recent events have shown I tend to know a lot less than I think I do.”  


His tone is casual, but Kevin bristles. “And why should that matter?” He didn’t think Jeremy would be the type to… snipe, or try to manipulate Kevin to pry into Andrew’s personal life. Maybe he’s nosier than Kevin thought.  


Jeremy blinks. “... because he’s on my team?”  


“What?” Hold on.  


“Jean Moreau,” Jeremy says slowly, smile fading into something more serious. “Look, I get it if you’re uncomfortable about him talking to me, but as a captain I have a responsibility to listen to and support my players, even if what they tell me is- well, frankly kind of horrifying.”  


Kevin could smack himself. “Oh. Sorry. I- I thought you were talking about Andrew.”  


“Huh?”  


“‘Recent events,’” Kevin says in air quotes. “I thought you meant his whole… thing.” He’s kind of shocked his mind lept to that and not to anything to do with the Ravens. It makes sense that Jeremy would refer to that, especially after what Jean has apparently told him. And Kevin shouldn’t be angry at Jean for that, because Jean isn’t under his jurisdiction anymore. He really shouldn’t. And he shouldn’t think about that right now.  


Jeremy just laughs, loud and tinged with relief. “Oh my god. Oh, okay. I was just freaking out inside. Yeah, no, I was totally prepared for you to deck me right here in self defense and I would totally understand.”  


“It’s okay,” Kevin says, trying to believe it. “Jean doesn’t answer to me anymore.”  


“I should’ve thought about how you might react finding out how he’s spilled so much to me.”  


“I’m not exactly pleased.” Kevin frowns. “He does understand that you’re a liability now, right?”  


Jeremy shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know if he likes me all that much anyway.” He picks up another jumbo shrimp, attention shifting back to the crowd. “So you thought I was talking about Andrew Minyard?”  


Kevin nods. “It’s a fresher story.”  


“Where is he, anyway?”  


Kevin scans the crowd. Andrew’s nowhere to be seen. “Probably smoking somewhere with Neil,” he says. “They don’t usually stick around for these things.”  


“They?” Jeremy’s expression shifts slightly. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that ‘fresher story’, does it?”  


Kevin frowns in confusion, then freezes. “Shit.”  


Jeremy chuckles and reaches out to pat Kevin’s arm, ostensibly to calm him down. “It’s fine, Kevin. You don’t need to worry about me.” He mimes locking his lips sealed and throwing away the key. Then he winks. “I understand the importance of discretion. Believe me.”  


Kevin feels his expression do all kinds of strange things. “Um,” he stammers, “so you. You’re. Also…”  


“More or less.” Jeremy eyes him. “I do expect you to return the same courtesy.”  


“Of course,” Kevin says automatically. “It’s not my business.”  


“No?” Jeremy kind of glances at him, then glances aside. “I was kind of wondering if it was.”  


Well, the automatic reaction to that is _oh, shit._ Kevin shifts, pulling his arm away. His face heats up. “I actually have a girlfriend,” he says, then starts to stutter. “Well, it’s kind of an open thing now, but, like, I don’t know how that’s supposed to work, but still-”  


Jeremy puts up his hands. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong before.” His smile is a little tight. “Don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  


Kevin sort of catches himself then. He deflates. “No, sorry,” he sighs. His mouth twists. “You- you’re not exactly wrong. I should’ve- I should’ve said _me too._ But I’m just not- used to it. Not used to it.”  


Jeremy’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit, okay. I’ve stumbled into something, haven’t I?”  


“Not really.” Kevin gestures deprecatingly to himself. “You’ve stumbled into me.”  


“Am I the first person you’ve said this to?”  


Kevin nods.  


Jeremy steps closer again, reaching out a hand to touch Kevin’s shoulder. “I can tell that was difficult for you to say,” he says, and Kevin knows this must be his you-can-come-to-me captain persona but he really doesn’t care. “I’m here for you, okay? If you need help, or… something. I can’t promise I can help, but, if you need a friend, you know.”  


“I’m really okay,” Kevin says, some of the strength in his voice coming back, alongside the strength of his nerves. He’s aware of where he is, what he’s just said, and Jeremy’s hand burns on his arm. “You’ve- you’ve done enough.”  


“Have I?”  


“I should go,” Kevin says, shifting back. “I-”  


Jeremy grabs his arm, and his grip is firm for the first time. His face is serious. “No,” he says firmly. “Kevin, come on. We’re adults. I’m finally talking to you and you are not just going to run away.”  


That gives him pause. “Finally?” he asks.  


Jeremy laughs, a little strained. “Well, look, you have to know I like you by now. I’ve been trying to actually talk to you for, like, years.”  


Kevin stops trying to pull away. “I like you too,” he says robotically.  


“Hypothetically, if you liked me, you wouldn’t run away three seconds after unwillingly coming out to me, or whatever that was.” Jeremy exhales harshly through his nose. “I’m sorry. I kind of forced that out of you, huh? You’re obviously uncomfortable.”  


Kevin really wants to go back to talking about history. That was a lot easier. He stares at Jeremy, his usually happy face that has no business looking so upset, his bright eyes and dynamic brows. He doesn’t want- well, he doesn’t want to not talk about history with Jeremy again. He wants to fix it, but what can he do-  


“Hypothetically,” Kevin says, the words coming out before he can think them through, “I’ve had a weird idolistic schoolboy crush on you since you first joined the Trojans, and more recently seeing an ad of you modelling half-naked in a store window set off a chain of events that led to me realizing I’m- realizing I have something to come out about.” He takes a breath. “So, yeah, I’m uncomfortable.”  


In the moment of silence after that revelation, when every single expression known to man is flying across Jeremy’s face, Kevin feels more instantaneous regret than he likely ever has in his entire life.  


He braces himself for- something. He doesn’t even know. Rejection, a fist to the face, the wrath of god, maybe.  


Instead, Jeremy says, almost accusatorily, “But you said you had a girlfriend.”  


“I said we’re kind of open now,” Kevin says. “Open, but we can’t get into anything serious.”  


Gears are turning in Jeremy’s head. Kevin wants to go into hiding. This energy is so wrong- he doesn’t know where he wants it to go, just anywhere but here. He’s less upset than he probably should be about the actual act of saying out loud what he said. He’s more embarrassed. About everything. He has no idea what Jeremy is going to say but he knows he’ll likely never be able to look the guy in the eye again.  


But Jeremy opens his mouth and kills Kevin in one hit. “Well, okay, then, that’s good,” he says, “because I wasn’t really looking for anything serious.”  


There’s a sense of deja vu here. _Error._  


“I- uh- what?”  


Jeremy’s eyes track slowly up Kevin’s face. His expression is thoughtful, almost shrewd. “Hypothetically,” he says, “if I happened to give you my room number and spare key, would you show up, circa, say, midnight?”  


“I, um-” Kevin swallows. “Probably.”  


“And would you be in an appropriate headspace, after everything that’s just happened, to make certain implied decisions?”  


“Um, by then. Yeah.”  


“And if not, you would bail?”  


“Yeah.”  


“And you’re being honest about this? About your girlfriend?”  


“Yes.”  


“Good.” Jeremy’s toothy smile suddenly returns, his tone reverting back to its jovial default even though the words he says are quiet don’t quite match it. He reaches into his pocket and produces a key card. “367. Be discreet!”  


He raises his final jumbo shrimp in a mock toast, pats Kevin’s arm once again, and walks toward the buffet bar.  


Kevin stands there in shock, trying to recover from the seven-or-so sequential punches to the gut he just received.  


He pulls out his phone and texts Thea.  


_You’re serious about this semi-open relationship thing, right?_  


She responds almost immediately. _Yes. Why, did you find a girl?_  


He types back, _Kind of. Is that okay?_  


She takes a little longer this time. _Yes, it’s fine. I will admit I’m a little jealous, but maybe that’s good. I stand by everything I’ve said._  


He feels a little comforted by that. _Good. So do I._  


He locks his phone, but it soon buzzes again. Still Thea. _Can I ask who?_  


Kevin stares at that message for a while. Finally, he just sends _I’ll tell you later if it works out._  


_Good luck, then,_ she texts back. _I think I should say, “get some”._  


Another message comes in quickly after that. _And tell her if she doesn’t treat you right I’ll beat her ass._  


That almost makes him laugh. Then he remembers exactly what’s going on. He closes his phone and stares at a far wall. This is such a whirlwind. It doesn’t even seem real, except it’s happening. He doesn’t know what the hell is going through Jeremy’s mind, either. One minute they’re talking about college majors and the next Kevin is admitting to a years-long gay celebrity crush and the next he’s being invited to… well.  


He downs the rest of his champagne.  


Not exactly a gay crush, right? He’s correcting himself. _Bi-sex-u-al._ That fits better.  


He sees Andrew and Neil come back in through the conference room doors. They head off in separate directions, barely seeming to acknowledge each other at all. Andrew goes to the buffet and starts loading a plate with the least healthy options available. Kevin goes with his default and walks over to him, arriving at the same time as Nicky, who appears to have had the same idea.  


“This is nice,” he says as he pulls up beside Andrew. “I’d say who knew all the Trojans were so friendly but, let’s be honest, we all knew.” Nicky’s in this floral patterned shirt, navy blue with pink roses. Kevin hadn’t noticed it before when they were all coming down from their rooms after changing. He notices it now, contrasted with his and Andrew’s almost matching plain black outfits. Kevin himself is in a button down and not just a t-shirt, but still. Nicky looks nice, and Kevin kind of just looks like he’s trying to blend into a wall.  


“Friendly’s one word for it,” Andrew mutters.  


“I know,” Nicky crows. “Two separate people have grabbed my ass, and only one of them was an accident. Let’s be honest, I was into it.” He laughs.  


Kevin looks at Andrew and splutters, “That’s not what you meant, right?”  


Andrew raises one shoulder, picking up a crab cake with detached disgust.  


“I haven’t noticed anything like that!”  


“Oh, come on, Kevin,” Nicky buts in, “that’s because you’re terrifying.” He reaches for a bottle of champagne at the end of the table and pours it a little unsteadily into his glass.  


“You’re not drunk already, are you?” Kevin asks.  


Nicky scoffs at him. “What, like being sober at formal events is suddenly important to you.”  


“No, obviously,” Kevin says. “I’m concerned about how much champagne you have to drink to actually get drunk. There’s a lot of sugar in that.”  


Nicky waves him off. “I’m not that drunk. It’s just a bit of tipsiness coupled with my naturally engaging personality.”  


“Do you naturally talk this loud?”  


“You know me, Kevin, I’m exuberant.” Nicky turns away from the table for a moment and looks out at the crowd. “This is kind of nice of them, though. I guess. Like, I don’t know if we need a sorry-you-got-hit-by-the-mafia dinner, but it’s cool of them to reach out.”  


“They don’t know that many details,” Kevin says. “Jeremy just said he knows we’ve had a hard time.”  


“Still. He’s a cool guy.”  


Andrew starts to walk away from the buffet, plate full. Kevin and Nicky follow him until he comes to rest against the back wall, where he leans back and starts to eat.  


“What do you think, Andrew?” Nicky asks. “Well, no, I know you’re going to say this is a waste of time. I mean, like, how’s it going.” He puts his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “I mean, is anybody giving you trouble?”  


“No,” Andrew says though a full mouth.  


“Not at all?”  


“They keep trying to support me,” he says. “That’s annoying.”  


“Oh, good,” Nicky says. “That’s- that’s really good to hear.” His tone is pretty light, but the relief on his face is palpable. It gives Kevin pause for a moment. He hasn’t really thought about how Nicky must feel about all this. After his own experiences with rejection, it must be hard for Nicky to watch his cousin step into the center of a big public spectacle, no matter how unaffected Andrew actually appears.  


Kevin hasn’t really thought of him as protective, per se, but maybe he just expresses it differently. This… is sort of a strange way to think about Nicky.  


Nicky drifts off again rather quickly, but he kind of stays in the back of Kevin’s mind. After a little while, he turns to Andrew and asks, “You ever wonder what he thinks about things?”  


Andrew snorts. “Who, Nicky? You don’t need to wonder. He’ll tell you.”  


Kevin frowns. He doesn’t know anymore.  


The dinner wraps up soon after that, and the Foxes head back to their own hotel. Kevin doesn’t have much time once he gets back to his room. He puts on a bit more deodorant, fixes his hair, checks his pockets, and calls an Uber. He could’ve just stayed, but he didn’t want to be suspicious. He hopes nobody notices him leaving later.  


As he waits outside the lobby, he sends a quick text to Andrew, just to be sure he won’t come looking: simply, _Out._  


The ride is tense and so is the stair climb up to room 367. But when Jeremy opens the door, he smiles wide and almost surprised, and his ease disperses most of Kevin’s nerves. He makes tea. They talk together for a bit. Kevin’s clear about his intentions and Jeremy’s clear about his. The last of Kevin’s anxiety succumbs to the earnestness in Jeremy’s eyes when he says, “I don’t expect anything from you.” It’s clear he means every word he says. “You do what you want, even if that means leaving right now. Out of everything, I’m only really invested in being your friend.” He chuckles. “Although I am very much not opposed to other things.”  


It’s nice, less awkward and uncomfortable than expected. It confirms a few things. Kevin thinks he mostly gets what Thea was saying about being comfortable around other people. He could live without this experience, but he feels kind of better with it.  


He stays overnight and wakes up later than he probably should. Before any panic sets in, though, he takes a minute to just… be there. He likes the feeling of being warm, waking up close to someone else. He likes the feeling of Jeremy’s weight next to him.  


He doesn’t lay there long, though. He pulls himself out of bed and starts to put on yesterday’s clothes. Jeremy wakes up after Kevin starts moving, but only groans and doesn’t get up.  


“Dude, it’s the day after a game,” he complains, throwing an arm over his head. “I’m an early riser, but you’re a maniac.”  


“It’s already eight,” Kevin says.  


“Shit, really? Oh man.” Jeremy moves as if to get up, then falls back down. “Yeah, no, I’m just going to stay here.” He cracks one eye at Kevin. “You going back?”  


“Yeah.” He suddenly doesn’t know how to go on. How’s he supposed to handle this? “Um. Thanks.”  


Jeremy laughs. “You’re welcome,” he says sarcastically. He watches Kevin go to the door. “You should text me.”  


“I will.”  


“Seriously. Even if you don’t want to make this a thing, we’re, like, bros now.”  


Kevin laughs. “Bros?”  


“Or something like that. I just woke up.”  


Kevin stops with his hand on the doorknob and hesitates for a moment. “For the record,” he says, “I think I do want to make this a thing.”  


He goes out into the hall and calls another Uber.  


As he waits, he checks his phone. One text from Thea, just a few minutes ago. _How’d it go?_  


In the morning light from the window at the end of the hall, he makes a final decision.  


He texts, _Can I call you?_  


He’s down in the lobby when his phone rings. He steps outside to pick it up.  


“Kevin?” It’s Thea’s voice on the line, as it should be.  


“Yeah,” he says.  


“Is everything okay?” She sounds just slightly worried. “You’re alright?”  


“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good, actually.”  


“Good. She- she was good to you?”  


“Yes. I- I’m thinking of actually… actually making this, like, a friends-with-benefits thing. I don’t know. If that’s okay.”  


“Wow.” There’s a bit of hesitation, but she sounds mostly pleased. “So it was that good.”  


He smiles a little bit. “Not as good as you.”  


“Shh.”  


There’s a beat of silence. He can’t worry about ruining the mood. He knows it’s now or another week of suspense and guilt and… not dishonesty to her, but maybe dishonesty to himself. No more doubt. Not again.  


He asks quietly, “Do you want to know who it was?”  


“I do.”  


He takes a breath. Then he says, “Jeremy Knox.”  


Silence on the other end of the line. After a few seconds, Thea says, “Oh.”  


“Yeah.”  


“So… ok. How much do you want to elaborate on that?”  


“I’m bisexual,” he says, “I think.”  


“It seems like you should be sure by now,” she says, letting out a soft laugh, “or you might want to apologize to Jeremy.”  


“I think I’m sure.”  


A car pulls up in front of the hotel.  


“Okay.” She breathes out. “I… thank you for telling me. Um. How long do you have to talk about this now?”  


“A short ride in an Uber if we switch to French.” He starts to cross the parking lot, damp from overnight rain. “How much do you want me to talk?”  


“Tell me everything,” she says. “I want to know.”  


He hesitates a moment, slowing his pace. He can’t keep the slight waver out of his voice. “Are you… are you upset?”  


“No.” The word is strong. “Kevin, I will never be upset to know you.” He can hear her swallow. “This is important, and… in fact, I feel like it makes more of you make sense to me.”  


“I… good.”  


“I love you,” she says.  


He chuckles weakly. “Yeah,” he says, “I should probably know that by now, huh?”  


The drive is short. It’s kind of hard, but... it’s worthwhile.  


The foxes are finishing breakfast when Kevin arrives. It’s an honestly pitiful Continental. He gets himself a plate of eggs, brushing by Wymack on his way out.  


“And where the hell have you been?” the coach asks. Before Kevin can answer, he shakes his head. “No, honestly, I don’t care. Just be on the bus in fifteen.”  


Kevin realises he’ll have a lot of questions to answer, but he thinks he’ll probably adopt and Andrew strategy: ignoring them or outright refusing to answer. That may just make people suspicious, but he’s already hit his emotional limit for the day and he just wants things to be normal from now on.  


On the bus, though, a little niggling in the back on his conscience makes it clear he’s still not done.  


The difficulty of this, the nervousness, the guilt- it’s making him think. Everything’s gone pretty well for him, objectively, since the whole thing started. His girlfriend is, although a little surprised, completely accepting. Not to mention he’s slept with two star athletes now. The internal stuff is a lot harder, though. These past few months have been honestly nightmarish on that front. Maybe he’s come out of it a little bit better as a person, but it’s still been hard and full of sleepless nights and self-hatred.  


He can’t really imagine how much worse everything would be if Thea, one of the most important people in his life, had rejected him. He can’t imagine it if anybody had so far.  


So when he gets on the bus he takes the seat across the aisle from Nicky’s. He cuts off Nicky’s questions and says, casually but without preamble, “So... tell me about Eric.”  


From the way Nicky’s face lights up, Kevin realizes he should’ve done this long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good gods people fat rip to my posting schedule
> 
> every time i post a chapter im convinced its the worst one. im like god people seemed to like the other ones but this?? damn ive really let myself go. that said i am convinced this is the worst chapter lmao (it's also the longest by a significant margin oof). im not sure how i feel about a lot of it and some of the choices i made (and in rereading it im like damn. i really am subconsciously projecting a lot of my life into this huh). some of it also just feels kinda... unnecessary. but hey im really inexperienced so please forgive me for my sins. ive also noticed a couple formatting inconsistencies in what ive written so when im done with everything i might just go back and fix those. or not
> 
> im pretty sure the next chapter will be the last? if not there are a maximum of two chapters left. i was pretty spot on with my original length estimate but god damn 20k is a lot longer than i would expect. this shit is a 40 page google doc. my admiration of those people who write 100k+ fics has just skyrocketed. my fucking novel is only like 90k rn. jesus 
> 
> id like to again thank everyone for the amazing feedback! if youve left a comment please be aware that i owe you my life. it has been so hard to keep up my motivation to write this thing- i struggle to keep working on my own original stuff so just forget about this lmao- but your involvement has really made this worthwhile and i appreciate every comment and every kudo (this is not me fishing for them i just genuinely love them). thank you!
> 
> also im gonna plug this next chapter as well but if anyone wants to vibe w me i got a tiny writing tumblr (@mosscreate) and a slightly less tiny bullshit tumblr (@drainoshot). i have not posted this fic or anything relating to it on either of those just to levelset


	5. Soft Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin sets the wheels in motion for a few final changes. Some aesthetics are developed, and a something happens that might be called parenting.

Kevin starts thinking about the baby.  


Abby’s body seems to decide that discretion is very much not a priority and her shape starts to change more rapidly than expected. It’s not that much of an issue after she hits that second trimester mark- in what seems like a very short amount of time, honestly- and she and Wymack make an official announcement to the rest of the foxes. After that cat’s out of the bag, it doesn’t really matter what the media figures out. Everyone will know eventually, but now the ones who matter already do.  


Kevin gets a little drunk that night. He holes himself up in the bathroom of Abby’s house after dinner while the rest of the team are engrossed in some drinking game and calls Thea. Maybe he cries a little bit, but maybe he lets her talk him through it. Her dark honey voice resonates in his head, “You don’t have to be afraid of losing the spotlight anymore, love. You don’t have to be afraid of something new.” He has a place here, he has a place in his own life, and he doesn’t have to be afraid of losing that or of not measuring up to it.  


This is not a game of numbers and rankings. This is… this is just Kevin, whatever’s wrong with him, whatever’s newer than him, whatever messages are pushed into his skin.  


He pushes his heels into the tile floor and stands. He’s strong. This is his body, one he’s tempered and controlled for years. This is his face in the mirror with the Queen tattooed on its cheek.  


He goes back out to rejoin the team. He stands against the wall, watching their game. A few feet away, Andrew’s doing the same thing.  


“You were gone for a while,” he says through the corner of his mouth, lips brushing the rim of a red solo cup.  


“I’m allowed,” Kevin says, stepping slightly closer to him.  


“You’re allowed to take a shit.” Andrew takes a sip of drink. “Manners dictate that you should not do so for fifteen minutes immediately following a pregnancy announcement.”  


“I already knew.”  


“Mm.” He lowers the cup. “You didn’t even stay to hear about the gender.”  


Kevin looks at him. “Did they find out?”  


“No. They made a big deal about not wanting to know. It was all very progressive.”  


Andrew’s eyes don’t leave the party in the center of the room. His face is impassive, his eyes as usual narrowed and unreadable. They’re hazel, a color that’s always seemed odd to Kevin. It’s like they should be icy, but they’re not. There’s an involuntary warmth in the color no matter what Andrew does, no matter how much the rest of his face looks like it should be set in stone. He looks like a statue, the angle of his jawline, the furrow of his brows. He’s not. Kevin knows he’s not.  


Andrew finally glances at him, curling his lip. “The fuck are you doing?”  


“Did I mess something up?” Kevin asks him. “With you?”  


Andrew’s answer is flat. “No.”  


Kevin sighs harshly. “It’s just that- well, I felt like something was changing here,” he says, gesturing between them, “with us. And it kind of stopped.”  


“Oh?” Andrew raises an eyebrow with vague sarcasm. “I thought you were scared of change.”  


Kevin pauses. “Is this about…” He trails off. He doesn’t know how to finish that.  


Andrew sighs and pushes off the wall. He looks almost annoyed, like Kevin’s forcing him to admit to something. “You can say I’m holding out,” he says, a little roughly, “for the follow through.” And he goes forward to claim an empty space on Abby’s couch.  


Kevin realizes then that Andrew operates in a binary much like his own. Maybe not in percentages, maybe not so unnatural. Like a robot, he navigates his life through a long string of yeses and nos. But he’s not like a robot like Kevin’s like a robot. Andrew decides which way the switch is flicked. Kevin lets it decide for him. Maybe that’s the difference between robots and humans: binary, and binary with agency.  


Andrew has never seemed more or less human than Kevin, though.  


Kevin remembers looking into the mirror of an elevator ceiling and thinking he was going to step out a different person. Intent counts, in his mind, but he knows Andrew puts more stake in action. And Kevin hasn’t really taken much of that.  


It’s what he has to do to flick his switch in Andrew’s mind back to yes. But it’s not at no right now, exactly, either. It’s what Andrew said. Kevin said he wanted a change. Andrew’s waiting for it.  


The room explodes in laughter for a moment. Dan’s just done something weird on the coffee table- Kevin’s pretty sure they’re playing charades. The couch is full, all the seats taken, Allison perched on one armrest and Nicky on the other. Wymack’s sitting near the center of the action, leaning in, his gruff exterior for a moment forgotten. Abby sits a little off to the side, sipping sparkling cider from a red plastic cup.  


He knows change won’t come from one moment. It does have to come from him.  


He decides he’s going to be a worthy throne for that Queen on his cheek. Whatever changes he needs to make.  


He eases up behind Abby and taps her on the shoulder. She twists her head to look at him, eyes widening a little when she sees who he is.  


“Kevin?” she asks, putting her red cup down on the floor beside her before turning to face him fully. “What is it?”  


“I want to get my ears pierced,” he says. “Tonight, after all this. Will you come with me?”  


She blinks, a confused smile on her face. “Um, sure, Kevin, of course,” she says. Her expression screams confusion, screams _why?_ and _what’s happening here?_ , but her voice is inviting and she maintains a friendly sort of air. Whether it’s a genuine agreeability or just a nurse’s practiced bedside manner, Kevin isn’t sure. Still, she seems up for it.  


“Good,” he says. “I’ll stay behind.” He leaves before she can say anything else, going to sit on the floor near Allison’s feet.  


He doesn’t really join in the games, but he lets himself watch and eventually be swept up in the mood and fullness of the group. He has a bit of champagne in a solo cup but not more than that. He wants to stay sober for now.  


Eventually, the gathering wraps up. The foxes do their abysmal best to help clean up before piling into their respective rides. Andrew gives Kevin an expectant look when he doesn’t follow them out, but Kevin just shakes his head. Andrew shrugs and closes the door behind himself.  


Kevin turns to Abby, who’s fishing an empty cup out from under the couch. “You ready to go?” he asks.  


She looks up at him and nods, though she seems surprised that he’s actually going through with it.  


Wymack steps out from the kitchen, a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand. “Hold on, so where are you two going?”  


“Out,” Kevin says, opening the door for Abby.  


“Leave the door unlocked if you would, David,” she says over her shoulder. Kevin can feel Wymack staring after them even once the door is shut.  


They descend the steps of Abby’s porch. The night is cool, but not uncomfortably so. The street looks almost alien cast in the orange of the streetlights. There are a couple of cars in the driveway. Wymack’s is there, and so is Abby’s personal car, a little Honda Civic.  


“Can you drive?” Kevin asks.  


“I don’t know where we’re going, but sure.” Abby chuckles. “I won’t let you drive my car.”  


He grunts.  


The car unlocks with a flash of its lights. Abby climbs into the driver’s side and Kevin goes around to shotgun. The seat’s too far forward and he has to scoot it back to fit his legs in. The car’s ceiling is low enough that it brushes the top of his head.  


He notices Abby watching him in amusement. “Tall boys,” she says. “You think you run the world, but you can’t even fit in a normal car seat.”  


“This isn’t normal,” he grumbles.  


She grins. “You sure?”  


“And I don’t think I run the world.”  


Abby tilts her head, studying him. “Most do,” she says. “They’re just too high up to see that they don’t.”  


“I can’t get very high up,” he tells her, pulling the seatbelt strap across his chest. “I don’t fit in airplane seats.”  


She watches him for another moment. Then she bursts out laughing. “I bet you don’t,” she says, finally starting to back the car out of the driveway. “There’s something to think about when I’m down.”  


Abby pulls out onto the street. Her laughter dies off, and she looks at Kevin. “Where are we going?” she asks. He’s sure she doesn’t mean it as a deep question.  


“Where I got my tattoo done,” he tells her. “It’s not far. I’ll tell you where to turn.”  


They make the rest of the short drive in relative silence, Kevin only speaking to tell Abby where to go. They pull up to the place, a dark, squat building that thankfully still has an illuminated open sign in its window.  


Abby parks on the curb and waits for Kevin to climb out, using his door to avoid having to go into the street. Once she’s out, she stands with her hands on her hips and surveys the place. “It certainly looks… small,” she says.  


“It’s trustworthy,” Kevin says, making his way to the door. “And it’s the only one open right now.”  


“Reassuring,” she says.  


“If it comes to it, you’re not the one who has to worry.” He opens the door for her, causing a little bell to tinkle somewhere above him. As she walks in, she passses the neon sign, and the light paints her face in pink and blue.  


“It’s my job to worry,” she says.  


The shop’s ceiling is low and its layout is claustrophobic, made even smaller by the posters plastering every wall. The front is dark and empty, but the back is well-lit by bright fluorescents. There are only three people there, one bored-looking employee and another giving the last a tattoo over their wrist.  


The unoccupied employee perks up when Kevin and Abby enter. She’s heavily tattooed and her face is filled with so many metal piercings it would probably come off if she got too near a magnet. The employee looks friendly enough, though, and beckons Kevin and Abby forward. “Hello, lovely lady and gentleman!” she greets with good humor. “What can I do for you this fine evening?”  


Kevin glances at Abby and says, “Ears.”  


The employee looks delighted and motions him toward a chair. “Is this your first time?”  


The procedure is quick and mostly painless. Kevin opts for two colored studs, thinking back to the light outside the shop. Pink and blue, one color in each ear. They’re small, but they’re there.  


It’s barely ten minutes that they stay in the shop. Abby looks mostly unaffected by the whole thing. If anything, she seems perplexed. She gets back into her car and Kevin follows her, pulling down the front visor to examine his new additions in the small mirror there. Abby pulls back out into the street. “Should I take you back to the dorms?”  


“Yeah, if you can.”  


She starts to drive. She stays silent for a minute, then asks, “Why?”  


“Why did I do this?”  


She nods. “And why did you bring me along.”  


Kevin decides to ignore the last part of the question. “I did this,” he says, “because I think it matters how you present yourself. Especially as a public figure.”  


She glances at him, hesitates a moment. “And you… you wanted to change how you present yourself?” she asks. “How people perceive you?”  


He almost wants to ask, _how do you perceive me?_ He just says, “Yeah. I guess.”  


“Hm.” She stops at a stop sign, turning on her blinker even though the road is empty. “I think you’ve changed a lot lately, Kevin,” she says slowly, taking the turn. “Do you agree?”  


“Yes.”  


“It was purposeful,” she says. She doesn’t look at him. “I admire that. Purpose.”  


“Do you?”  


“Some accidents have purpose. That’s what separates them from mistakes.” She tosses her head, moving a strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes glow just slightly in the light of the dash. She looks real. Her hair is loose, messy, a few streaks of gray. The ghosts of crows’ feet to come touch the corners of her eyes. “You haven’t talked to me about anything before,” she says. “Why now?”  


He turns away from her, leaning his elbow against the door and resting his head in his hand to look out the window. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “Something about change.”  


The hum of the car carries up his arm. Outside, streetlights pass in streaks of soft orange. In another minute, the car slows to a stop outside the foxes’ dorms. Something tells Kevin not to get out yet.  


“Can I tell you a secret?” Abby asks him.  


He nods. Somehow she sees it without looking away from the road. Her hands are firm on the steering wheel. She takes a breath before she speaks, and he lets her.  


“You know how we said we didn’t know the gender?” she asks.  


“Yeah. Andrew told me.”  


“Hm,” she says. “Well, that was a lie.”  


He turns to her. “Oh?”  


“Partly. On my part.” Abby bites her lip for a second. “Yeah. Last time I went for an ultrasound, David was in the bathroom when the doctor came back to the room. She told me. Didn’t ask if I wanted to know. Just told me.” She looks over at him. “Do you want to know?”  


He hesitates for a moment. He pictures Wymack with a little girl in a pink skirt, lifting her above his head. He pictures him playing on the floor of Abby’s living room with a little boy in overalls. “No,” he says. “I don’t think it makes a difference.”  


Abby nods. “Yeah. I agree.” She pauses, then says, “David wants it to be a boy.”  


Kevin shifts his hands back into his lap. “Oh.”  


“Yeah. He hasn’t said it out loud, but I know.” The dashlight reflects in Abby’s eyes, a few more pinpricks of light there than before. Abby’s voice gets a little higher, raspier, but it doesn’t break. “Yeah,” she says again, “he wants to know what it’s like to raise a little boy.”  


Kevin looks away.  


Abby sniffs. When she speaks again, her voice is stronger. “I don’t want to question your mother,” she says, “but I think it’s a human right to love a child that’s close to you.” She turns to him fully, reaching out to take one of his hands from his lap. “Kevin,” she whispers, “I want this baby to be close to you.”  


He just stares at her, stares at her in the dark.  


“I know this has been hard,” she says, voice quickening. “I know you don’t know me and you don’t want me to know you and that’s okay. I know I’m getting older and I know this might- I know this might not work, but I want-”  


“I want that too,” he says. It’s important. It’s so important that he says it out loud. “I want that too.”  


She surges across the seat divider and pulls him into her arms.  


He goes rigid. It’s his automatic response, his instinct. He expects her to pull back. But she doesn’t. She’s small and not as strong as him but she holds him there until the energy drains out of him and his head melts down into her shoulder. She buries her face in his hair. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying.  


“You’re so young,” she whispers, voice wet. She brings up a hand to stroke his hair. “You’re just a boy.”  


She’s right that they don’t know each other. Up until now, she’s been auxiliary, part of a professional support. He didn’t want her to be anything else. He didn’t want her to invade his life, and it felt like she was. But she’s not. She’s not his mother but she isn’t just a nurse, even if he wanted her to be. He doesn’t, not now, not in this darkened car and not in an embrace he hasn’t known for years. He doesn’t want her to be anything. Right now, she’s not anything that words can describe. She’s important, this is important. This is so different and so changed and the tears flowing out of Kevin aren’t sadness or happiness or closeness or anything at all. They’re just tears. Tears for Abby. Tears for this one moment and whatever else is new.  


They stay there for a long time, and then Kevin leaves. Abby drives away, and he goes back up to his dorm, and he lays in his bed and closes his eyes. And he doesn’t dream.  


After practice the next day, he goes up to Nicky and asks him, “You remember that shirt you wore that night we had dinner with the Trojans?” They’re the last two in the locker room and he’s shoving his gear back into his locker. Kevin was waiting for him, which he’ll admit is a little uncharacteristic, but he and Nicky have been… on different terms, maybe, as of late.  


Nicky still looks a little taken aback. “Um, why?” he asks. He chuckles hesitantly. “You want to boycott the store? I know you probably think flowers are a monstrosity, but-”  


“No, I just liked it,” Kevin says. “I’ve been thinking about my style lately.”  


“Clearly,” Nicky says, gesturing toward Kevin’s new earrings. He looks a little dazed, but soldiers on. “So, you’re finally going to incorporate, say, a color?”  


“I wear color,” Kevin defends automatically, then retracts himself. “I mean, yeah. _More_ color. Less of the… Ravens uniform, I guess.” He watches Nicky zip up his bag. “Do you want to help me out?”  


Nicky stills, staring at Kevin with wide eyes. Maybe Kevin is moving this change a little more quickly than he should, or maybe Nicky just hasn’t gotten with the program yet. “Um,” he says. “I mean, I would.”  


“Well, good.”  


“No, wait, but-” Nicky runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I can improve Neil’s style because Neil’s style is equivalent to that of a sexually repressed twelve-year-old. Yours is like a reasonably fashionable but uptight father. But still like a man, you know? A whole-ass man. I wouldn’t know what to do with you.”  


“How about you pick the opposite of ‘uptight father’,” Kevin says, “and start from there.”  


Nicky straightens with his bag on his shoulder, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not usually that type of gay, but- wait, actually, you know what? Fuck that. No way. I haven’t seriously taken you clothes shopping and I do not plan to. We went for groceries once and I still haven’t recovered.”  


Kevin scowls. “What?”  


“You know what I said about a whole-ass man?” Nicky starts toward the door. “Well, I rescind that statement. When we go into a store, you leave the ranks of the whole-ass men and become a toddler.”  


“I do not.”  


Nicky puts on an intensely pouty face. “Oh, no!” he wails. “Six gwams of added sugaws? I want my mommy! Waah!”  


“I do not do that!” Kevin insists. “And there are no added sugars in clothes!”  


“Whatever, man,” Nicky says, returning to his regular tone. “Listen, I’m not your guy. If you’re gonna be a brat, go to another brat. And if you want to look _actually_ nice, go to someone who looks nice. My opinion is that Allison fits both of those criteria.”  


Nicky leaves the locker room and Kevin trails behind him, thinking. Allison. Allison would make sense.  


He finds her during one of the breaks in her schedule. She’s in the library, reading a book. He doesn’t look at the cover. “I need your help,” he says, coming up beside her table.  


She doesn’t look up at him. “With what?”  


“Fashion. You’re the expert.”  


“Are you stereotyping me?”  


“What?”  


She finally lowers her book. “What,” she asks, the words slow on her cherry lips, “do you want.”  


“I want you to go out with me, Abby, and-” he wracks his brain and makes a quick decision “-Andrew. Wherever you want to go.”  


Allison’s eyes meet his, disdain bleeding into interest. “Quite the crew,” she says. “Fine. I’ll help.”  


She extends a red-nailed hand. Kevin takes it. It feels like a deal with the devil.  


Before they shake, she asks, “What do you want?”  


“Something different,” he says.  


She snorts. “Is that all? No guidelines?”  


He studies her. He decides to trust her. Only on this. “Just fuck me up,” he says, resigned.  


She smiles, baring rows of perfect teeth. “Gladly.”  


So they make plans. Allison will make an appointment with her stylist- of course she has a stylist- and Kevin will look through some sampler magazines to figure out what he wants. He invites Abby, who seems confused but definitely willing. He invites Andrew, going up to him while he smokes a cigarette outside the gym.  


“I’m not going dress shopping with you.” That’s Andrew’s first response. Okay, okay, Kevin can work with that.  


“You are,” he says. “You know about fashion.”  


“I do not.”  


“Come on.” Kevin doesn’t know why it’s so important that Andrew come along, but it is. “Do me a favor.”  


Andrew raises an eyebrow. “A favor? For this?”  


Kevin shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “No. No. Not like that.” He doesn’t want this to be a deal. He just wants- fuck, what does he want? He just wants Andrew to come along. “Look, not every favor is a transaction. They can just… build rapport. Between friends.”  


Shit. But- Kevin expects him to say _I’m not your friend_ but the blow is softer than that. “Why would I want to build a rapport with you?”  


This approach still isn’t working. One more hail mary: “Because you can tell Bee about it.”  


Andrew pauses. He considers, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Fine,” he says finally. “But I will not participate.”  


“That’s okay. That’s good.” Kevin actually smiles. “Thanks.”  


Andrew looks at him in disgust. “Are you _okay?_ ” he asks, but it’s not a genuine question.  


Kevin nods. He’s okay. He’s actually okay.  


Thea notices during their skype session that night. Kevin’s just in his room, sitting in his bed with his legs under the sheets. But something about him must tip her off, because she says, “There’s something different about you.”  


He raises his eyebrows. “Is it bad?” He’s not really nervous about the answer.  


Turns out he shouldn’t be anyway. “No,” she says, “it’s good. You seem… comfortable.” Then her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck! And you got your ears pierced!”  


He smiles. “I did.” Then, just because he knows the answer and wants to hear her say it, “Do you like them?”  


“Fuck, I like them.”  


He blushes anyway. “Thanks.”  


“I _really_ like them.”  


Kevin turns away. “Okay, okay.” He really likes the expression on her face. “I’ve been thinking about changing up the way I look. What you said about how we both still dress at events- just black suits, the way the Ravens made us. I keep thinking about it. Especially with the banquet coming up.”  


Her smile softens, but it becomes more real. “That’s really good,” she says. “I think that’s a great idea.”  


Kevin feels a little mischievous. “You remember what else you said?” he needles.  


Thea frowns for a moment, then looks away, holding up her hands to shield her face from the camera. “Fuck, Kevin, you can’t come after me for what I said when I was horny. There are laws.” One eye peeks through her fingers. “Are you gonna wear lace, though?”  


His smirk breaks into a grin. “Yeah.”  


“Really?” Her voice pitches up an octave. “Oh, man. I am not gonna be able to leave you alone. You know that, right?”  


“It was most of my reasoning.”  


The thought of Thea seeing him at the banquet- seeing him in something new, seeing him and being _proud_ and being _captivated_ \- well, that’s certainly a thought. That’s a good thought. He wants to show her that he’s not afraid anymore. Show everyone he’s not afraid anymore.  


He is afraid. The concept is fucking terrifying.  


But Thea said he didn’t have to be afraid. So the fear is still there, but it’s less all-consuming. Less captivating. Less compulsive. It’s fear with a fallback, fear with the knowledge that Thea will be there- Thea and everyone else- even if it comes to fruition.  


He’s not so exceedingly nervous in the waiting room of the tailor’s place as he would’ve been even a few months ago.  


The place is nice. It’s fancy. High-end. Kevin doesn’t want to know how much he’s going to end up paying here and he wants to know even less how much Allison is regularly shelling out for her custom dresses. The waiting area is small, but it’s connected to the larger shop so customers can see the tasteful and ungodly expensive fashions they’re in store for.  


Kevin and his three companions are sitting on one side of the waiting area along a row of chairs. Abby and Allison are talking to each other about something, facing away from Kevin. Kevin’s sitting next to Andrew, who’s staring at his phone. Across the room, two incredibly well-dressed children, a toddler who’s maybe three and an older child of around seven, are playing with the contents of their mother’s purse while she talks, looking frustrated, to the man at the front desk.  


Andrew looks out of place surrounded by decoration, by excess, by the vanity of presentation. He’s not plain, but he dresses practically, essentially. He wouldn’t be the type to showcase himself. Not like Kevin plans to do.  


Does it make him a better person? To be untouchable?  


But then again, Andrew… well, Kevin thinks, he does like to show off. When it matters. In his own way.  


Kevin suddenly feels the need to say something.  


“So,” he starts awkwardly, “how do you feel about the banquet?”  


Andrew doesn’t take his eyes off his screen. “Waste of time.”  


“You think it’ll go okay?” Kevin asks. “With- we both know there are going to be some familiar faces there.”  


Andrew understands his meaning and turns off his phone to face Kevin. “Are you going to freak?” he asks flatly.  


“...No. No, I know that… most of them have apologized. Most of them were victims, too.”  


“Apologies alone don’t mean anything,” Andrew says. “Let’s call this their chance to prove they mean it.”  


Kevin doesn’t want the conversation to go there, not now. “I’m excited to see Thea,” he says. “It’s been a while.”  


Andrew doesn’t deem that worthy of a response. He folds his hands in his lap and looks away, which would usually close the conversation. He accidentally catches the eye of the toddler across the way, who’s now holding a beat-up copy of _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ upside down. The toddler immediately sticks its tongue out and pulls its cheeks to the side to widen its mouth.  


To Kevin’s surprise, Andrew does the same face back, crossing his eyes for added effect. The toddler laughs and throws its book.  


Andrew catches Kevin looking. The goalie say nothing, just raises an eyebrow and looks away again.  


“Um.” Kevin coughs. “Well, anyway. Yeah. Long distance. It’s hard.”  


Andrew doesn’t respond.  


“I was wondering, uh, how’s it going to work out with you and Neil,” Kevin says, soldiering on, “once you’ve graduated. He’ll still be here. And once you both go pro, you’ll be travelling constantly, so…” He trails off. The toddler is back. It’s crawling on the floor near Andrew’s feet with a delightedly mischievous expression on its face.  


“Have you noticed this?” Andrew asks Kevin, purposefully not looking at the toddler.  


The toddler jumps up beside him and screams, “Boo!”  


Kevin just stares at it. Andrew, meanwhile, makes a show of falling backward, flailing out his arms. “Oh, no! So scary!” he says, more expressive than Kevin has ever heard him.  


The toddler laughs shrilly, then raises up its hands in the vague shape of claws. “Boo! It’s a scary monster!”  


Andrew clutches his heart. “Aah, not a scary monster!”  


“Raaah-!”  


“Andrew!” The woman’s voice- the toddler's mother- is sharp. Kevin instinctively looks over to her where she stands at the front desk. He doesn’t recognize her. He wonders how she knows Andrew and what she wants, but then she says, “Andrew, don’t bother that man. If he doesn’t want to play with you… yeah.” She looks at the real Andrew. “Sorry, sir-”  


“He’s fine,” Andrew says, monotone.  


The woman gives him a pained look, but turns back to her conversation with the shop employee.  


“Boo!” the toddler shrieks again.  


Andrew jumps exaggeratedly, then appears to recover and leans forward. “You know, my name’s Andrew too,” he tells it in a low voice. “You’re Andrew, I’m Andrew. There can only be one. We have to fight.”  


The toddler points at him and yells, “Bang! Bang!”  


Andrew collapses backward. “Oh, no. You win! You killed me, now I’m dead.”  


The toddler laughs and runs back over to its sister.  


Kevin knows that Abby and Allison are both staring at Andrew too.  


“That was cute,” Abby says.  


Andrew scoffs. “What. I was just reacting.”  


“You didn’t have to do that.”  


“His mother wasn’t paying attention to him.”  


Abby nods, though her expression is pensive.  


Allison shifts in her seat for a moment, then says, “Fuck me. I never wait this long. I’m going to go talk to the desk.” She gets up and strides over to the desk, where the children’s mother is looking increasingly more upset - Kevin thinks it’s about a late dress order from what he’s overheard her say, but he’s not sure. Allison steps right in front of her and starts talking to the employee, which seems to set the mother off. They start snapping at each other. Abby is watching in concern, but looks indecisive about whether or not she should get involved. Kevin just looks away.  


Kevin thought the toddler was bored of Andrew, but no. It reappears at his side, holding _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ in one tiny hand. It clambers up onto the empty seat next to Andrew and then actually into Andrew’s lap. Kevin recoils, ready for Andrew to throw the kid off or pull a knife or something, but the most he does is tense up and drop his hands to his sides as the toddler settles on his knee and opens the book upside down.  


“Wow,” Kevin says, “I thought you hated kids.”  


“I do,” Andrew says, reaching out stiffly to turn the book rightside up in the toddler’s hands. “They’re annoying and horrible.”  


“Is that on a case-by-case basis?” Kevin asks. The scene before him is alien, Andrew interacting with this strange kid, letting it sit on his knee. Kevin doesn’t know why. He’s never really thought about it before. He has a sudden image of Andrew with Wymack and Abby’s baby- his half-sibling, he guesses- letting it sit on his knee like this. He wonders if Andrew wants kids in the future. The obvious answer is no, but…  


Kevin gestures at the toddler. “It seems to like you,” he says.  


Andrew looks over at him. “Kevin,” he says, pointedly unimpressed, “this is a human child.”  


Kevin sighs. “Fine. _He._ ”  


“You’re a nightmare,” Andrew says.  


The toddler shushes him. “Shhh,” it- he- says, “I’m reading to you. You have to _listen._ ”  


“Alright, fine.” Andrew leans forward. “What’s that caterpillar up to?”  


Andrew doesn’t actually get to hear about the caterpillar, though, because the children’s mother storms over a second later. She shoves her scattered belongings back into her purse, hauls the other child to her feet, and then snatches the toddler off of Andrew’s knee with a brusque, “Thanks for watching him.”  


The toddler immediately starts to scream. Andrew’s eyes widen, but the mother doesn’t react at all to the racket of, “No! No! I don’t wanna go!”  


“Say goodbye to your new friend, Andrew” she says, sounding completely disengaged, then carries him to the door before he has a chance to do what she told him to.  


“No!”  


Kevin doubts her words penetrated the wall of deafening screams surrounding Fake Andrew anyway.  


“Damn,” Allison says, coming back to the group, “some people need to get their lives together.”  


“She might be having a difficult time,” Abby says magnanimously.  


“So are my goddamn eardrums.” Allison checks her watch and groans. “Ugh. And my timetable. I’m definitely going to make a complaint. This is supposed to be a high-end establishment.”  


Kevin looks over at Andrew, who seems a little… dazed. Kevin wonders if the loud noise bothered him or- or, well, he realizes, a child screaming no over and over again, even in this benign context, might not be a great thing for… for Andrew.  


He feels like he’s had some kind of realization.  


“Hey,” he asks lowly, leaning toward Andrew, “did that- did that affect you somehow?”  


Andrew looks over at Kevin and pops his jaw.  


“It’s just that-” Kevin struggles to find the words. “It’s just that I don’t- I don’t usually think about it. Like how certain things might- I don’t know. Certain things would affect you. Because, like, I guess I think of you as, uh, as sort of- untouchable. I don’t know.” He frowns. “I guess there’s a reason for that.”  


Andrew lets out a short breath. “Kevin,” he says, his voice not soft or vulnerable but not exactly angry, either, “this is not the place.”  


“Okay.” Kevin thinks for a moment. “Is there going to be a place?” he asks.  


Andrew looks toward the desk, where the employee is now beckoning toward Allison. He motions. “Just get up,” he says. “Go try on your dresses.”  


Kevin gets up and lets himself be ushered in with Abby and Allison. Andrew stays behind. Kevin sees him stand and head toward the door, fishing his cigarette box out of his pocket.  


The actual fitting is fine. Kevin wasn’t sure what he was in for, but it’s easy enough. Allison and Abby are undoubtedly surprised by the choices he makes, but they keep it to themselves. He’s surprised himself, but he likes it. He really likes it. He thinks Thea will like it, too. Everybody else can keep it to themselves.  


The actual garment - he doesn’t know what else to call it. It’s sort of a shirt and sort of, he doesn’t know. Something. Maybe a mess. Maybe fashion. It looks kind of like the top half of a figure skater’s costume, a little less gaudy. Lace. He’ll wear black pants with it. Maybe an homage to his last decade of fashion choices. And new earrings. To match.  


It probably looks too showy, too girly, for his massive athlete’s body and his perpetual scowl, but… _too_ is a fine word to replace _not enough._ He could be a pendulum and swing toward somewhere in the middle, or he could just become this. It doesn’t matter.  


It’ll be ready for pickup by the end of the week.  


He nods to Andrew as he leaves the building and they both slide into the back seat of Abby’s car. Andrew rests his elbows on his knees, folding forward.  


Kevin expects him to stay silent for the whole ride but instead, under his breath, Andrew asks, “What exactly are you doing?”  


“I…” Kevin takes a moment to think about it. “I’m doing nothing.”  


Andrew’s gaze flicks over to Kevin. “Bull.”  


Kevin sighs. “Fine. I don’t know.” He crosses his arms. “I… I guess I’m changing things. I want to… grow up, maybe.”  


“And that involves, what?” Andrew asks. “A new suit?” His eyes narrow where he’s staring toward the floor. “Why am I here. Why did you bring me along.”  


“Because I want you to be part of that,” Kevin says. “I’m not saying you have to… forgive me, but I told you you’re my friend. And this- maybe it’s not important to you, but it’s important to me. My whole life has been about presentation, and-” he holds out his hands as if they can make the concept solid “-and now I want to show the world that my body, my image, my person doesn’t- it doesn’t belong to somebody else anymore.”  


Kevin’s aware that Abby and Allison are watching him from the front seat, Abby through the rearview and Allison outright starting, but he doesn’t care. He’s looking at Andrew.  


Andrew lets the heavy silence ring. He sits back, dropping his hands to his lap. “Hm,” he says.  


It’s clear he’s going to leave it at that. It’s okay. Kevin doesn’t know what happens in Andrew’s head sometimes. Right now, he can see it’s nothing cold. It’s a couple switches being adjusted, a couple changes in the landscape. And he can forgive the silence because Andrew is in a different place now.  


Kevin knows how scars work. His hand is rugged with them, cuts and bruises and entrances for metal pins. And he’s had other scars on his body, watched them heal on their own, felt them start again to breathe. When the numbness starts to fade, the phantom pains can sometimes feel like the cut is ripping apart again, like there’s going to be blood running down skin that’s clean when you check.  


Andrew’s not raw or reopened, just a scar with the nerves finally knitting back together under the skin.  


The car rolls to a stop outside Abby’s house. Wymack’s car is in the drive next to Andrew’s, which is to take all of them back to the dorms. Kevin lets Andrew and Allison get into Andrew’s car, but decides to walk Abby to her door.  


He follows her up onto the porch. Just in front of the door, she pauses for a moment, a strange expression coming over her face.  


“What is it?” Kevin asks. “Are you okay?”  


“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says, smiling. “It moves.”  


Oh. That’s… weird. “The, uh, the baby was kicking you?”  


“Yeah.” She looks up at him. “Do you want to feel?”  


She takes his hand before he can say no and guides it to her gut. He holds it there awkwardly, feeling nothing. This is strange. What’s he supposed to- oh. There it is. He feels it, a little flutter of movement.  


He jerks back his hand. Abby laughs at his expression. “What did you think was going to happen, Kevin?”  


“I don’t know. It’s like a parasite.” He backtracks. “I mean, I’m sure it’s. Fine. I mean, I’m sure you feel very motherly.”  


“Motherly,” she laughs. “God, what a word. And no, actually, you’re right.” She looks down, steepling her hands over her gut. “It feels like there’s an alien inside me. It’s literally leeching off of me, you know? It’s using my body for its own means.”  


Kevin wrinkles his nose. “Ugh.”  


“I know. You’re lucky you won’t have to deal with this.” Abby’s expression turns a little more pensive. “You know, I was thinking about it. The feeling of control over my body. And then you said that thing just now- that yours belongs to you now.” She nods to herself. “That’s all important.”  


Kevin nods back. “I know that.”  


“There’s a poem, a line in a poem, _Wild Geese_ by Mary Oliver. You made me think about it.” She takes a breath. “It goes, _You do not have to walk on your knees/ for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body/ love what it loves._ I love that line. I memorized it when I was around your age, actually, if you can believe that.”  


Kevin doesn’t know what to say. “It’s a good line.”  


“It is.” Abby looks at him for another moment, then says, “I should get inside.” As if on cue, Andrew honks his horn. Abby laughs, then pats Kevin’s shoulder. “Goodnight, Kevin.”  


“Goodnight,” he says, and watches her go inside. He stands there for a moment longer until Andrew breaks his trance by starting to actually lean on the horn.  


Kevin jogs over and gets in. He can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. He’s halfway through buckling his seatbelt when Abby’s door opens again. It’s Wymack. He holds up a hand to stop Andrew from backing out and comes up to Kevin’s window. Kevin stares at him. Wymack raises an eyebrow and knocks on the glass.  


Kevin rolls down the window.  


“I’m going back to my place,” Wymack says to him. “You should come with me.”  


Kevin frowns. “Why?”  


“We can have shitty microwave burritos,” Wymack says. “And you can stay over if you want.”  


“How could you say no to that?” Allison asks from the front. She and Andrew are watching Kevin from the front, both looking somewhat impatient.  


Kevin looks to Andrew. His expression is unreadable. “I’m tired,” he says. “Sort your shit out.”  


Kevin gets out of the car. Andrew barely waits for him to step out of the way before backing out.  


Kevin looks at Wymack. Wymack ignores him, pulling out his keys. “Come on. You can have shotgun with me.”  


They both get into the car. Kevin keeps watching Wymack, even as he drives, and doesn’t even try to hide it. Wymack doesn’t answer him, but his posture shows something… worrying, maybe. Is he angry? Kevin doesn’t know what he’d be angry about, but there’s a tension in his broad shoulders, a clench in his hands on the wheel. His face is closed off, an expression - well, an expression Kevin realizes is disturbingly close to one of his own. That knit of the brows, that set of the lip, the darkness in the eyes that goes beyond their pigment. Kevin doesn’t know his own face that well, but he knows the feel of it. When does he make that expression? Not when he’s angry. When he’s anxious and trying to hide it.  


Hm.  


Wymack parks in silence. He leads Kevin to the building in silence.  


“You’re making me nervous,” Kevin says in the stairwell, thinking that if there’s any time to work on communication, it might be now.  


Wymack pauses and looks down at him from a few steps above. “Don’t be nervous,” he sighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”  


“Okay,” Kevin says, and continues to climb.  


Inside his apartment, Wymack sets about pulling two frozen burritos from the fridge and sticking them in the microwave. Kevin isn’t sure they’re on his diet plan, but he feels like now is a time to let that be. They stand next to each other, watching the burritos spin around and around in the microwave. It’s oddly hypnotic.  


The microwave beeps, and Wymack pulls out the steaming plate. He puts it down on the table with a sweeping gesture. “The feast, as promised.”  


Kevin takes a seat across from him. He tries to pick up a burrito, but they’re too hot.  


Wymack reaches out to touch his own and winces. “Shit.” He looks up at Kevin. They regard each other, burrito-less.  


Kevin doesn’t say anything. He just waits. He feels his face sinking into that familiar expression and tries to open his eyes a little wider.  


“Why are you looking at me like that?” Wymack asks after a moment. “You’re not in trouble.”  


Kevin stops trying.  


“Look,” Wymack sighs, “we need to talk. I knew I had to talk to you, I just kept putting it off. Now Abby says she’ll kick my ass if I don’t.”  


“What do you want to talk about?” Kevin asks cautiously.  


“I don’t know,” Wymack says. “You.”  


“What did I do?”  


“Nothing- nothing.” Wymack growls under his breath. “Ugh. I mean, you’ve done some shit. You seem… different, I don’t know.” He puts his arms up on the table, spreading his hands. “Christ, I mean, since when did you and Abby talk?”  


“It’s a new thing,” Kevin says.  


“There are a lot of new things with you,” Wymack says. “Like, are you okay? I mean, you got your ears pierced. That kind of speaks of a mental break to me.”  


“Thanks,” Kevin says dryly. “I’m glad you like it.”  


“Fuck you.” Wymack sighs. “All I’m saying is I’ve noticed a few changes. I should- check up on you or some shit.”  


Kevin folds his hands over his lap beneath the table. “You don’t have to do that.”  


“It’s kind of supposed to be my job.”  


Kevin’s mouth twists. “Are you trying to coach me, or are you trying to parent me?”  


Wymack stares at him. Then he reaches for his burrito. He picks it up and holds it in front of him. “They’ve cooled down a little,” he says.  


Kevin sighs, looking away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”  


“It’s okay if you did.” Wymack blows on his burrito. “I don’t really know the answer anymore.” He meets Kevin’s eyes. “Which do you want me to do?”  


“You don’t have to - worry about me. I’m doing okay. The changes are good.” Kevin tries to offer a smile. “Really.”  


Wymack eyes him, then pushes the other burrito toward him. Kevin picks it up.  


“I’m sorry for what I said before,” Kevin says. “Everything.”  


“You don’t have to apologize,” Wymack says immediately. “Fuck. I should’ve told you that night in the gas station. I don’t care if you apologize.”  


Kevin tilts his head. “Uh, what?”  


“Shit, I mean - I keep thinking about it. We’ve talked since then, but we haven’t _talked._ Every time I see you I remember-” Wymack deflates. “I remember how fucking scared you looked. You felt so guilty for being angry. And, look, I don’t like that you’re angry, okay? But I understand why. I’m not going to kill you for being human about all this.”  


Kevin looks down. “I really want to apologize.”  


“Fucking don’t,” Wymack snaps. “You acted like a dick when I told you about the baby. I was a little pissed about it. It took Abby to make me realize - to make me realize you’re barely a fucking adult, Kevin, and you’re a damaged one at that. You and I both keep wanting you to be some kind of ideal. You’re not an ideal.” He holds Kevin’s gaze, not letting him look away. “You acted like a dick, but I’m not even going to say I forgive you. I understand. I’ll keep understanding if you get up and walk out right now, Kevin, and I’ll keep working on this. I don’t know if it’s parenting, but _that_ is my fucking job.”  


The muscles in Kevin’s throat are working, but he can’t speak. He feels so out of his body. He isn’t confused, but some part of him is - the part that always expects rejection, that always expects punishment, that always needs to be better. The part that, for some reason, keeps getting proven wrong.  


“I don’t know if I’m going to be a good dad. I doubt it,” Wymack says. “I don’t know if you want to be any part of it, either, any part of the kid. I understand if you don’t. But to be honest, though, I hope you do.”  


The corners of Kevin’s mouth turn up just slightly, even through the prickling behind his eyes. “You will be a good dad,” he says. “I don’t doubt it at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i lied. this is not the last chapter. that will be NEXT chapter. i swear this time.
> 
> im so sorry its taken so long to update. i really have no schedule anymore. through a series of terrible decisions ive ended up in college a couple years early and the semester just started so i have about three free hours per week total to eat, sleep, and attempt to write. and also... boys, weve reached the point in the project where my motivation has slumped. i really have enjoyed writing this but im ready for it to be done
> 
> so that said, i dont know when ill have the final chapter done. it WILL be done reasonably soon i hope but im so busy that it will probably take a while. sorry for the wait!
> 
> thanks again to everyone who's left a comment or kudos! you are the backbone of this country


	6. Good (Self-Help: Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin's not a different person, but he's changed, hopefully for the better. It's time the rest of the world knows it.

So Kevin… Kevin isn’t what you could call _low-key._  


He’s never going to be the type to pass things off, to feel things softly. He’s too blunt and too nervous and too raised-in-the-public-eye to present himself in a way that could be described as _normal._ He’s built to be a character, to make an impression, to put on a show. He was made to play a part in the dramatics of it all. That isn’t going to change. And Kevin doesn’t know if he’ll ever be truly comfortable being _authentic_ or god-forbid _vulnerable,_ even in front of people close to him. But he’s working on it. And now the kind of show he puts on is up to _him._  


And, to be fair, he kind of does like to make an entrance.  


He walks into the banquet with his head held high. He’s almost even overdressed, and the way he is dressed draws eyes almost immediately. Even the Foxes, all of them except Allison, gaped at him when they first saw it.  


Even Andrew said something. Rolled his eyes and said, “I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.” Kevin read between the lines of that, and he liked it. Andrew was surprised.  


Now, he likes the feeling of surprising people. Not just Andrew. This whole room. Everyone here knows who Kevin is, and there’s no arrogance there, just fact. Everyone here knows him as closed off, fierce, a dangerous brick in Riko’s black wall. But now he wants them all to know he doesn’t want to be that anymore, he _isn’t_ that anymore. He feels like his own body is a trophy, telling him _You won. I’m yours now._  


He likes all these eyes on him. There’s two dark ones he cares about more than all the rest combined.  


He sees Thea across the room. She managed to break through her gruelling schedule to be here, and he managed to call in a few favors and get her in as his guest. Some people might be wondering why she’s here at all, and Kevin knows it doesn’t help them keep their relationship under wraps, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care at all. She looks so strong and sharp in her black suit, her hair pulled back, her lips darkened red. Her eyes burn into him, filled with… whatever that is, some fierce combination of pride, love, and hunger.  


She said she’d have a hard time keeping her hands off him, and he really feels that. He likes it a lot.  


He and the rest of the Foxes disperse into the crowd, and the attention they got at their entrance starts to fade. Kevin keeps looking at Thea. It’s been so long since he saw her in person, and now that she’s here the full weight of that is filling up his body, as if he needs to make up for all the time he hasn’t touched her right now, to fill up that debt in his core.  


He takes a few steps toward her.  


And then, before he knows what’s happening, she’s running at him full speed, head lowered, all her playing strength leveled at him like a bull. She collides with him, pulling him into her arms, smashing her mouth directly into his.  


It’s bruising, but he doesn’t care. Everyone’s looking, but he doesn’t care. They’re supposed to be a secret, but he doesn’t care, not anymore, and all he can think about is how the whole world is finally going to know that she’s his and he’s hers. He kisses back as hard as he can. Being like this with her, it feels like it’s charging up his soul. He feels alive, invincible.  


She finally pulls back, looking into his eyes. Her own are dancing, and there’s a smile on her face, a real, genuine, exhilarated smile. “I told you this would happen,” she says.  


He laughs. “Fuck, I missed you too.”  


He slides out of her arms, but keeps one hand linked in hers. He pulls her over to where the Foxes are all standing clustered together. He ignores anyone else who might be looking at them.  


Nicky looks the most invested. “That was like a scene from a movie!” he exclaims, holding his hands up to his chest. “I mean, like, _straight people,_ but honestly I’m very here for it.”  


“You definitely know how to make a splash,” Aaron says, looking just a bit disgusted. “When are they bringing out the food? I want to start drinking.”  


“Don’t be bitter, Aaron, the press is going to be hell after this,” Thea says. She and Kevin move forward enough to join the Foxes’ rough circle, and he likes already how much more comfortable she seems.  


“Damn right. You all can’t give me a fucking break, can you?” Wymack’s putting on a stern face, but Kevin knows he’s not angry. “I’m going to talk to the other coaches,” he sighs. “Don’t do anything else dramatic tonight, I can only take one aneurysm at a time.”  


So that’s that, and it’s easy. Easier than years of secrecy and posture could have prepared him for. Thea’s standing beside him, looking happy, looking thrilled. He loves her, he really does. For the first time, loving her is easy.  


Kevin likes having Thea glued to his side all through the party. He knows people will take pictures, he knows it’ll get into the news by tomorrow morning if it hasn’t already. He doesn’t care. He likes it. He likes it when Thea looks at him that way without hiding it. He likes holding her hand on top of the table. He likes it when she pulls him away from the main room, out and into some empty concrete stairwell, and he likes that she’s strong enough to hold him up against the cold wall even if he wraps his legs around her middle.  


He vaguely remembers this nightmare he had, months ago. It was kind of like this. Kevin, wearing lace. A room full of people. Thea in the center. But he knows that when he opens his eyes, it can only be Thea there. No one else would kiss him like this. They’re only themselves, here, together. Riko doesn’t touch what’s between them anymore. He isn’t allowed.  


When Kevin finds his way back to the Foxes’ hotel the next morning, he doesn’t care about the exaggerated nudges and side-eyes he gets. “You should be focused on preparing for the finals now,” he tells them.  


He believes what he says, but, honestly? For once, it’s kind of hard to follow his own advice. Exy’s taking up maybe 70% of his brainpower now. That’s an all-time low. The rest is being taken up mostly by thoughts of Thea and Abby’s baby. He’s only using about 5% to be concerned about the press.  


And, honestly, the press turn out to be more shocked by his stylistic choices than by his formerly-secret romances. Most of them seem to be in favor of his quote-unquote “new look”. In the next couple days, he gets a couple of magazines asking him to appear in articles about _redefining masculinity,_ whatever that means. Seems to be a hot topic. Some commenters on the leaked photos from the banquet say he looks gay, but they’re quickly shot down. _Idiot,_ one user says in response, _these were taken two seconds after he made out with Thea Muldani in front of every exy player ever._  


Well, that’s true. Kind of.  


He also gets a couple dozen emails from professional stylists. He bribes Allison to sift through them for him, promising her executive authority and, to his chagrin, one day of missed practice free of angry yelling. She delivers, and he meets with the woman about a week later. She’s agreeable and, importantly, willing to put up with his perfectionism. That’s that. From then on, he has her handle his look for pretty much every public appearance.  


The 70% gently creeps upward as finals approach, though. All the talk of style and metamorphosis, although he _does_ like that people have noticed, starts to grate on Kevin. He wishes people would just take it as it is. He isn’t a different person. He’s just trying to look a little nicer.  


He complains about it to Andrew one day when the group is lounging around his dorm and is met with a complete lack of sympathy.  


“Wow, boo hoo,” Andrew drawls, lacking any inflection, not even looking up from his book. “You know, right after we won the game last week, a licensed sports reporter tried to ask me if I considered myself a top or a bottom.”  


Kevin frowns. “What does that mean?”  


Nicky spits a mouthful of water across the carpet.  


After looking that up later, Kevin feels even more annoyed. How dare someone ask Andrew that? Not only was it unprofessional, but with Andrew’s history…  


He’s making improvements with his anger management, but he feels like now he has a right to be angry. He starts brushing off comments like that completely, not with real hostility but knowing that it’ll come eventually.  


One reporter, in the press conference after the Foxes have just won their first semifinal game, starts, “Kevin! Once again, you’re shocking us with your revolutionary feminine style-”  


Before she can finish, Kevin leans into the mic, making sure his long diamond earrings don’t hit it. He feels both annoyed and cocky after his win, and says, “You should all stop being so shocked. This isn’t the first revolutionary thing I’ve done. Didn’t you notice my tattoo?”  


He regrets that pretty soon. Not because the tabloids have finally caught on and started calling him the _Queen_ of Exy, but because he knows that if he’s started snapping at reporters, Neil is probably about two wrong words from going completely nuclear.  


Kevin enjoys at least some of the attention. Neil does not _at all._ Aside from the occasional question about his lack of a girlfriend, not a lot of the attention is directed at Neil, not for this, anyway. But Kevin knows that Neil takes every comment toward Andrew even harder than if it’d been toward himself. Kevin knows Neil feels guilty for not coming out on his own just as much as he knows that Andrew has told Neil on no uncertain terms not to do it. Andrew’s right that it wouldn’t be good for Neil, that he wouldn’t cope well with that kind of attention at all and that he’s explained before, as Kevin is still trying to comprehend, that he’s not actually gay. Still, the eventual detonation is inevitable. Kevin only hopes it comes _after_ the finals.  


He wouldn’t be so lucky. It comes about a week before them.  


...but. It actually isn’t as bad as Kevin would expect.  


Someone in PR must have had the same thought as Kevin, because complete disaster is prevented with a series of two obviously planned and revised tweets from Neil’s account.  


_Neil Josten (@njostenexy):  
_

_(1/2) A lot of people have been asking me about my romantic life lately. I guess this is in light of some recent popular stories, some of which involve my teammates…  
_

_(2/2) So before the speculation gets out of control I want to say this, in no uncertain terms: I am a queer man in a committed relationship with @andminyard._   


They’re not even a surprise. Neil tweets them at dinner, with all of the Foxes sitting around Abby’s table with him. When the tweets are sent, some of the team start to clap. Wymack pats Neil on the back. “Good job, kid.”  


Andrew sits next to him, not appearing to react. Later, Kevin notices him take Neil’s hand under the table and start drawing circles into his palm with his thumb.  


_Andrew Minyard (@andminyard):  
_

_wait, what?_   


Kevin himself doesn’t really say anything. He gives Neil a half smile, but doesn’t look at him for long. He’s trying to project a supportive energy. That’s… probably enough.  


The conversation moves on, focus breaking off of Neil. Kevin listens, mostly playing with his food. He feels guilty. He knows he should - say something, seize the moment, be the person he wants to be and all those other resolutions. But it’s hard. He can’t make the words unstick from his throat. No matter how much he _knows_ he can.  


So he just stays quiet.  


“So what about you, Nicky?” Abby asks from beside Kevin, sounding well-meaning. “When are you going to come out?”  


Across the table, Nicky freezes with a bite of chicken halfway to his mouth. Nobody else notices the question, but Nicky still glances around. He lowers his fork, the corners of his eyes pinching up. “Um, I don’t know if it’s really a question of when, yet.”  


Abby raises a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry.”  


“No, it’s okay. It’s just that, like, hah -” He forces a smile. “I don’t know if I have to. Like, I’m not going pro. I don’t really need to tell the public.”  


Abby nods, but her expression is sad.  


“I won’t even be married by the time I leave this team, right? So there’s no point.” Nicky looks over to Kevin. “You probably agree, right?”  


Kevin’s gut twists. “I think it’s up to you,” he says.  


Nicky half-laughs. “No, I know what you think. This whole thing is probably giving you a heart attack, right? I wouldn’t want to kill you with another one.”  


“Let’s just see how it goes,” Kevin mutters. He feels… he doesn’t know. He’s kind of… almost upset. That every step he’s tried to make with Nicky apparently hasn’t gotten through.  


He watches Nicky move his food around his plate. Or maybe these things just _can’t_ get through to Nicky right now.  


No, that’s bad. That’s not it. Kevin won’t let that be it.  


He puts his hand flat on the table, leaning in. “Nicky,” he says, stronger, and the other man’s eyes snap toward him again. “Nicky, I think if you want to tell the world, that’s what you should do.” He swallows. “You’re engaged. You should be proud of that.”  


Nicky licks his lips. And smiles despite himself. “Thanks.”  


“I’m with you,” Kevin says.  


“We all are,” Abby emphasizes, giving Nicky a smile. “Whatever you decide to do.”  


Kevin looks over at her. He wonders if she knew that he needed to hear that, too.  


Again, he’s struck by how Nicky can appear so confident in himself and still be so afraid. Nicky was the one whooping the loudest after Neil’s post, but right now it seems like he wouldn’t even consider doing something like that himself.  


Kevin keeps thinking about that through the next week up to the finals. Through the grueling practice, through the interviews, through Neil’s outbursts and insults and hard fight to win back the exy world’s respect, a respect he should never have lost in the first place. Neil will survive that. But it’s hard. It’s hard to see him stuffed in the public’s box. It’s hard for Kevin to see that he was _right,_ he’s been right about what would happen. He doesn’t want to be. He doesn’t want to see it.  


The crucial part of it, though, is that Neil and Andrew both refuse to be beaten down where Kevin, when he said what he said, was sure he himself would have crumbled. So maybe that makes them stronger than him. Maybe it makes him, now, stronger than the person he was.  


And Nicky. What about people like Nicky?  


He keeps thinking about it, even on the bus to the final. The thought pops up in between stats and plays. If Nicky’s scared, what’s Kevin? If Nicky has his parents, what excuse does Kevin have?  


As the minutes pass, the mechanics of exy, the clips and the analytics, fade from his mind. This is the end, the ultimate game, to show the world he’s still strong, he’s still recovered, he’s still himself. He looks into his reflection in the window. The thought pops into his head, _then who am I?_ He’s powerful, he’s grown, he’s something to be proud of. The words repeat. _Queen of Exy, Queen of Exy, Queen of Exy._  


And in the game, those words carry him. They carry him farther than angles and calculations, farther than endurance and strength. His body is not a machine, it’s his. It’s all his. And he’s got those words electrifying his veins.  


They win. _He_ wins.  


That feeling, winning as _himself,_ untouched by the Ravens untouched by Riko untouched by his own fear, is the best high he’s ever felt.  


He is the Queen of Exy. He is. Kevin Day, that’s who he is. He’s changed and grown and he’s going to be the person he wants to be, dammit, he’s going to earn himself. He’s the _Queen_ of Exy.  


Nothing, _nothing,_ can take that high from him.  


He’s on press duty in the conference after the game. He’s buzzing. Maybe it’s arrogance, but Kevin feels finally like he’s earned every question. Every mention of _his win, his championships, his team._ Thea was watching the game, the world was watching the game. Now he’s here, changed into his new sequined shirt, and he feels like he deserves it. He wishes the whole team was out here, not just himself and Nicky and Wymack. He wants them all here. He’s part of them.  


He’s part of this. He’s part of himself. He’s _here,_ in his entirety.  


He’s always loved exy, but right now it really feels like exy could love him back. And this really is arrogance, but Kevin actually never wants the questions to stop.  


But then they do. The ones he wants, anyway.  


The question comes to Wymack. “So,” the reporter says, “your team won the final despite recent... emotional turmoil. Would you say that the revelations about the homosexual relationship between Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard have negatively impacted the Foxes’ image or team dynamics?”  


At that question, an ice cold bold jumps through Kevin’s back.  


A muscle in Wymack’s jaw instantly starts to jump. “I would _not-”_ he begins, but Kevin raises his hand.  


“Can I take this one, coach?” he asks, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.  


Wymack and Nicky both turn to stare at him. That solidifies it. If Kevin was up here with anyone but Nicky, he might not - he might not say what he wants to say. But right now, it’s important. This is so important. And he was just feeling invincible enough that it might not hurt.  


He speaks again before Wymack can respond. The room is hushed. He level his gaze at the reporter, who looks entirely unrepentant. “Can you repeat the question?”  


Wymack’s eyes are wide on Kevin. Kevin can see his thoughts as clearly as if they were tattooed across his forehead. _WHAT ARE YOU DOING._  


The reporter starts again. “Sure, Kevin. You must also have an interesting perspective to offer on this. As a devoted athlete, have you found that your playing has been negatively impacted by the L-G-B-T issues that now affect your team? Have you wanted to distance yourself from that image?”  


Kevin narrows his eyes, knowing it makes him look dangerous. “Why would I?” he asks.  


The reporter’s nose twitches. “I’m only asking a question.”  


“I’m trying to answer you,” Kevin says. The reporter opens his mouth again, but Kevin holds up a finger to cut him off. “No. What are you expecting to get out of this? We just won the national finals. _We._ That’s thanks to every person on our team. You know what? It’s _especially_ thanks to Andrew and Neil. They’re some of the best players in exy right now, and if you don’t think that, you don’t know anything about the sport.” Kevin sniffs, leaning forward. He continues before the reporter can get a word in. “You must think I’m about to repeat the same platitudes I’ve given every single time someone’s asked me about this,” he says, his voice darkening. “But I’m not going to lecture you about acceptance or diversity or teamwork. No, I’m just going to say one thing: how _fucking_ dare you.”  


A surprised noise bursts through the crowd. Beside Kevin, Nicky’s hands leap to his mouth.  


Kevin doesn’t stop there. “You know what? How fucking dare everyone who’s been giving Andrew and Neil shit like this. We’re professionals. I wouldn’t have guessed that from the way you people have behaved. You act like you’re suddenly owed every detail of someone’s private life as soon as they come out. You want to know why more athletes haven’t done it? It’s because you’ve made it _fucking terrifying_ for them.”  


More noise from the crowd. Kevin ignores it. He pulls the microphone closer to his mouth and keeps letting the words tumble out of him, every pent up piece of anger, every last knot of guilt he’s been keeping inside. It’s not metamorphosis, but it’s part of that - it’s finally letting out all the things that the old Kevin held on to, all the things that the new Kevin can’t just keep inside anymore.  


He thinks of Nicky, beside him, and all the fear he keeps locked up in his loud laughter. He thinks of Neil, bravely pressing that button on his screen. He thinks of Andrew, waiting for the followthrough.  


“And I’ve been that person,” he tells the crowd, not just the reporter, and the anger in his voice becomes something else. “I’ve been the person making this world. I’m admitting it to you now. I told Andrew and Neil to keep their relationship a secret, many times. I told them it would ruin both of their careers if it got out. That was… that was shit. I’m so sorry for that. I don’t know if I can really be forgiven, but I’m trying. I’ve learned a lot since then, and I’m trying to change.”  


His voice hitches and he hesitates, looking down. His own voice echoes in his ears. The crowd shifts, and one reporter starts, “Kevin, is this-”  


Kevin hold up his hand. “I’m not done.” He knows all of this is being recorded, is probably on live TV somewhere, and that thought is terrifying. The spotlight’s on him now in its entirety. The eyes of everyone he cares about.  


He has to do this. For his own sake.  


The words spring from him like butterflies, finally fighting their way out of his mouth. “Growing up in the Ravens, I was taught to be a perfect player. I was taught that everything I did, everything I was, had to be for exy. Not a hair out of line. But now I’m free of that, and I don’t have to be some plastic model anymore. I don’t have to be afraid to be myself, or even to know myself. I never want to be afraid of that again.” He takes a breath, sitting back. He squares his shoulders, feeling the strength coiled in them. “In exploring who I am outside the person the Ravens built me to be, I have realized that I am bisexual.” Noise erupts. Kevin soldiers on, not looking at the people beside him. “Accepting that has been… terrifying. But it’s time for me to come forward about it. Not because I personally have anything to gain - as I’ve recently announced, I am in a long term relationship with Thea Muldani. I’m saying this because… because in order to survive in this world, we have to be strong together. We have to set examples and be the people we want to be. We have to show the world that we are the people we want to be.” Kevin finally breathes in. He pushes away his mic and stands, ignoring the swell of noise in the room. “The Foxes played a great game. No further questions.”  


He walks off the stage. Behind him, he hears Wymack scrambling to his feet and jogging after him.  


Nicky’s voice crackles hesitantly from the speakers. “Uh,” he says, “I’m gay too.” He switches off his own mic and rushes off the stage.  


Backstage, the Foxes are clustered at the edge of the curtain.  


“What the _fuck_ ,” Kevin hears Aaron hiss first as he pushes through them. “Am I the only straight guy-”  


“Kevin, that was badass!” Dan whispers, patting him on the back. “I had no idea-”  


“It was very brave,” Renee says.  


“What the fuck!” Neil whisper shouts in a completely different tone from Aaron’s. “Kevin-”  


“Sorry,” Kevin says, shoving them away, “I have to go break down in a bathroom for a little while.”  


They let him pass.  


He finds the mens’ bathroom just down a hall and darts inside, bolting himself into a stall and pulling out his phone. His notifications are blowing up with news articles alone already.  


_Kevin Day Comes Out as Bisexual!  
_

_LGBTF - Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Trans, and Fox!  
_

_Watch Live: The Most Kevin Day has Ever Said Ever At Once  
_

_When He Said He Was “Queen” of Exy, He Wasn’t Kidding!_   


He swipes past them all and calls Thea. Even as the dial tone rings in his ear, he can feel his heart rate slowing down. The next few weeks will be hellish, but… he feels oddly relieved. Almost freed. He knows that what he did was monumental, but at the same time, he knows… he’ll be okay.  


Thea picks up, and they talk. Kevin hears her tell him again and again that she’s proud of him, that she loves him, that everything will be alright. For once, he has no trouble believing her, even if the adrenaline is still pumping in his veins.  


He hangs up after a few minutes, and then he just sits there on the toilet, resting his head in his hands.  


He picks up his head when he hears the bathroom door open. Someone walks into the stall next to him. He doesn’t think anything of it until he hears them knock on the wall separating their stalls.  


It’s Andrew. “You’re a drama queen,” he says. “Have you got your pants on?”  


“Yeah.”  


There’s some shuffling and a grunt from the other side, and then Andrew’s head is looking over the bathroom stall wall, his arms awkwardly braced against the top.  


“I’m standing on the toilet for you,” Andrew says. “You’re making me feel really ridiculous right now, so it better be worth it.”  


“You could have asked me to come out,” Kevin says, “of the stall.”  


“This is funnier.” Andrew looks down at Kevin for a second. “Nicky’s freaking out right now. You look remarkably calm.”  


“I am.” Kevin tilts his head back. “More than I expected to be.”  


“You planned this?”  


“No.” Kevin brushes his hair back. “I didn’t think I would do it.”  


“You did surprise me,” Andrew says. “Doing it, I mean.”  


“Did you know?”  


“I wondered.” Andrew tilts his head. “I never… expected to know for sure.”  


Kevin nods. Okay.  


They sit in silence for another minute.  


“I don’t want to thank you,” Andrew says. He ends his statement there.  


“Don’t,” Kevin says.  


Andrew nods. His head disappears as he climbs off the toilet. Kevin hears his stall unlock and stands up himself. It’s time to go.  


Out by the bathroom sinks, Kevin looks at Andrew. Andrew looks back. He’s not angry, not happy, not exactly proud. He sees Kevin as he is. That’s his talent.  


“It’s funny,” Kevin says. “Aaron’s the only straight one now.”  


The corner of Andrew’s mouth ticks upward. “Insufferably so.”  


They walk out of the bathroom and back to the rest of the Foxes. Kevin notices they’re looking at him differently, but it’s not bad. Only different.  


They walk together out toward the bus. Wymack falls into step beside Kevin. “You know,” he says loudly, “I think this calls for a celebration.”  


Ahead of them, Dan cheers. “Drinks on you?”  


“Dinner and drinks,” he calls back. “Bankrupt me, I don’t give a shit.”  


More cheers from the upperclassmen.  


Kevin and Wymack lag behind the rest of the group. Kevin knows it’s on purpose. He doesn’t mind.  


“So,” Wymack says.  


“Yeah.” Kevin looks over at him. “How do you feel about i-”  


“I love you,” Wymack bursts out. “Have I said that?”  


Kevin blinks. “I don’t know.”  


“Well, I do. It’s not the best time to say it right now, because. Yeah. But I just wanted to say it.” Wymack swallows. “I’ve said it in more words before but I wanted to make sure the message got across. You’re my son. You don’t have to say it back or anything.”  


Kevin smiles. “I love you too.”  


Wynack stops and looks at him. “Oh, well, okay then.” His mouth twitches up. “You’re a pretty good guy, huh?”  


“Not really.” Kevin looks away. “I should probably have been in therapy for a while, huh?”  


“Probably.” Wymack’s eyes are bright. “But I think you’ve done a lot on your own.”  


Kevin nods. They both step up onto the bus.  


He walks down the aisle, brushing past his teammates. Allison taps his arm as he passes by. Matt gives him an encouraging smile. Kevin sits down in the seat beside Nicky, across from Andrew and Neil. Nicky’s a mess, his eyes rimmed red and his hair disheveled. But he looks good. He really does.  


Kevin likes them all. He kind of loves them all a lot, even if he isn’t going to think about that in such clear terms after the buzz of adrenaline has worn off. He loves sitting with them here as the bus starts to rumble. He feels present, he feels real. He feels at home in his own body.  


“That was good,” Neil says to him across the aisle. “What you said. That was all good.”  


“Thank you,” Kevin says. He hopes Neil knows he means it.  


And then he says, “I really do mean that,” because he does. Because he says things.  


Because Kevin is not going to be low key, is not going to hide things or push his emotions down so much that he only feels the most intense of them. He’s going to feel what he feels and he’s going to fucking like that.  


Andrew leans forward to look past Neil. “Drama,” he says. “That’s really all you live for.”  


“You’re here too, aren’t you?” Kevin asks him.  


“Not voluntarily.” Andrew looks like he always has. Steady, neutral. Kevin doesn’t expect more from him now. But then something in Andrew’s eyes changes. His mouth softens. “We’re all here,” he says.  


“We are,” Kevin says. In their entirety, in their honesty, in themselves.  


The bus rumbles around him, a movement no longer jarring but deeply familiar. The world outside the windows is dark, lit only by the warm orange glow of passing streetlights, which race by with the same impermanence as the blink of an eye, or even just a thought. In the window, the interior lights of the bus line a familiar reflection. Kevin, Andrew, Neil, Nicky, sitting close, cast in soft orange and comfortable shadow.  


Kevin knows he still has a lot to change. A lot of growing to do. A lot of the world to face. But here, right here on this bus, it all feels like it’s going to be worth it.  


“We are here,” he says again, “and that’s good.” He smiles, small, and takes a deep breath through his nose. “I think that’s really good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well! that's the end! wild!
> 
> i'm really glad that i finished this. it feels good to have something /complete/ out there that people can read. and people have been reading this fic, which is insane! i appreciate every kudos and every comment, really, and they've helped so much with my motivation. i especially love the long comments people have left - if you've been leaving those long reviews of each chapter listing what you liked, please please know that i adore you and i owe you my life. thank you all for sticking with me throughout the destruction of my posting schedule and the increasing obviousness of my complete lack of sports (real or fictional i Cannot keep them straight) knowledge.
> 
> this end note is going to be unreasonably long but i did just want to make a note of how valuable writing this has been for me. writing it has given me a lot of practice with character work, dialogue, and consistency that i wouldn't have gotten in my usual writings. i've really learned a lot. writing it was pretty difficult though, mainly just in terms of motivation, and it ended up being 68 pages on google docs (one off...) which is really wild. i definitely have gained a hearty respect for fic writers. i dont think i could survive writing a fanwork longer than this. i don't know if i'll write more fanfiction - i probably will, but i'm not sure what it would be about yet and it may be a while. i'm sure writing that though will also be a great learning experience as a writer
> 
> if anyone feels like it you can vibe with me on tumblr. im @mosscreates or @drainoshot depending on whether you care more about writing or random bullshit respectively. also, someone recommended this fic to the aftgficlibrary blog, which i follow, and let me just say it was an incredible feeling to see my actual work unexpectedly pop up on that blog.
> 
> again, thank you so much for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i really appreciate it and once again please tell me if there was anything in this fic that should be improved.
> 
> one specific thing comes to mind: im not sure if it was my place to write this honestly because im a gay lady and not a bisexual man. still i really wanted to explore this dynamic and this character and i tried to write realistically using my own Queer Experience (that said this is not at all similar to how i realized my own sexuality so idk). if i said anything wrong please tell me! i sincerely do not want to overstep any boundaries because i know fandom has a serious problem with inaccurate depictions of queer men written by women (and that's not even mentioning fetishization, which i promise i will give a very wide berth). thanks again!


End file.
